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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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Id/ 
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taire 


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d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
iliustrant  la  m^thode. 


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50  Cents 


Xovcirs  International  Scries 


The 
Black-Box   Murder 


BY  THE 

MAN   <VHO   DISCOVERED   THE  MURDERER 


Authori:{Cii  Edition 


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ER. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


ii 


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lovcU's  fntematfonal  Cexlee,  Ho.  123. 


THE 


BLACK-BOX    MURDER 


3X7 


BY 


THE  MAN  WHO  DISCOVERED  THE  MURDERER 


\ 


t/lutb'oriied  Edition 


NEW  YORK 
UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS  TO 

JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY 

150  WORTH  ST.,  COR  MISSION   PLACE 


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CorvniGHT,  189B, 

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UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY. 


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THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCES  THE  AUTHOR. 

If  I  sit  down  to-day  to  write  my  account 
of  what  is  known  at  Scotland  Yard  and 
among  the  newspaper  people  as  the 
"  Black-Box  Murder,"  it  is  because,  truth- 
fully, after  long  consideration,  no  man 
appears  to  me  better  qualified  than  I  to 
speak  on  the  subject.  I  am  not  in  any 
way  alluding  to  the  literary  point  of  view ; 
literary  capacities  I  never  have  possessed, 
and,  therefore,  wisely  shall  not  seek  to 
acquire.  They  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  life  I  have  been  leading  these  last 
thirty  years,  except  in  so  far  as  I  was 


4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

always  wanting  a  little  A  everything  in  that 
life,  and  of  nothing  too  much,  so  may  as 
well  warn  every  reader,  on  this  first  page 
of  the  story,  that  he  must  not  look  for 
writers'  beauties  in  a  plain  record  of  plain 
facts.  My  book  will  have  no  artistic  value. 
It  does  not  pretend  to  anything  of  the 
kind.  It  is  the  story  of  a  bad  deed 
cleveriy  executed,  and  cleverly  discovered, 
some  men  said  at  the  time. 

I  said  a  true  thing  just  now  about  my- 
self to  start  with.    "  A  little  of  everything, 
and  of  nothing  too  much,"  nor  the  same 
thing  too  long ;  that  has  always  been  the 
maxim  of  my  life.    It  is  a  bad  maxim.     I 
have  put  my  hand  into  a  score  of  money- 
bags,   and   drawn  it   out  again   before  I 
had  properly  closed  my  fingers  over  the 
treasure  inside ;  and  there's  many  an  un- 
grateful scoundrel  at  this  very  moment— 
sleek-faced  and  smooth-coated— who  has 
me  to  t    nk  for  stepping  too  hurriedly  out 
of    comfortable  quarters    that    he  could 
occupy  in  consequence. 


«. 


amm 


in  that 

may  as 

St  page 

ook  for 

of  plain 

ic  value. 

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ad   deed 

covered, 

x)ut  my- 
erything, 
he  same 
been  the 
axim.  I 
f  money- 
before  I 
over  the 
y  an  un- 
loment — 
■who  has 
•iedly  out 
he  could 


T//£  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  S 

Ten  years  ago  I  was,  during  some  eight- 
een months,  in  the  employ  of  a  private  in- 
quiry office.  Never  mind  how  I  came 
there.  I  had  been  a  good  many  things 
before  then,  and  I  have  been  a  good  many 
things  since ;  but  at  that  time  I  was  a  pri- 
vate detective.  I  was  about  forty  years 
old— a  little  more.  I  had  taken  up  the 
trade,  under  the  pressure  of  adverse  cirrum- 
stances,  as  a  means  of  earning  an  honost 
penny,  at  a  moment  when  I  was  badly 
in  want  of  that  indispe;>3able  artic.  .  My 
pennies  have  always  been  earned  honestly, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  whatever  vaiioas 
pockets  they  may  have  come  out  of.  "  An 
honest  penny!" — heaven  knows,  the  ex- 
pression is  sufficiently  accurate.  In  all 
my  rovings  I  have  rarely  come  across  an 
opportunity  of  earning  an  honest  pound. 

Ten  years  ago,  at  any  rate,  I  was  work- 
ing as  a  private  detective.  I  liked  the 
work,  and  I  think  it  suited  me.  More's  the 
pity  that  I  had  to  give  it  up  before  I  saw 
half  ^%  much  of  it  as  I  might  have  done. 


I 

I 

■  \ 


-— -.       * 


! 


«  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

But  even  during  the  brief  period  oi  my 
connection  with  the  office,  I  came  across— 
"  stumbled  across  "  were  more  correct- 
one  great "  inquiry,"  which  I  was  enabled 
to  follow  up  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion. 

It  is  of  that  case  I  am  now  anxious  to 
write  the  record.  Nobody  knows  much 
about  it  except  myself.  It  never  reached 
a  court  of  justice,  and  the  papers  alluded 
to  it  in  a  very  fragmentary  manner.  The 
facts  were  not  communicated— one  by  one 
—to  eager  reporters,  as  they  would  have 
been  if  Scotland  Yard  had  managed  the 

business. 

I  shall  tell,  then,  what  I  know  about  the 
"Black-Box  Murder."      It  is  years  ago 
since  it  was  committed,  and  the  persons 
concerned  in  the  tragedy,  for  whose  sake  I 
have   kept    silence,   are    dead    or    have 
dropped  out  of  sight.      I  myself  am  a  sick 
man  and  a  disappointed  one,  shunted  off 
the  lines  before  my  time— a   man  with 
whom  the  worid  has  dealt  hardly,  and  who, 
perhaps,  has  dealt  hardly  with  himself;  and 


Ij 


aiMMM 


•iod  oi  my 
le  across — 
i  correct — 
as  enabled 
inclusion, 
anxious  to 
nows  much 
rer  reached 
)ers  alluded 
mer.     The 
■one  by  one 
would  have 
lanaged  the 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  1 

I  like,  now-a-days,  to  recall  that  episode 
out  of  my  life,  and  I  like  to  talk  about 
old  times,  and  about  that  time  best,  so  I 
give  my  story  to  the  world. 

One  thing  more.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  story,  but  it  may  have  something 
to  do  with  my  way  of  telling  it.  I  was  a 
gentleman  once— thirty,  forty  years  ago,  at 
school,  and-afterwards.  1  don't  know 
whether  that  sort  of  thing  rubs  off  when 
one's  coat  gets  shabby. 


w  about  the 
years  ago 
the  persons 
irhose  sake  I 
,d    or    have 
slf  am  a  sick 
shunted  off 
1   man  with 
lly,  and  who, 
himself;  and 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


i 


CHAPTER  II. 


INTRODUCES  THE  BOX. 

iTwasattheGareduNordinParis.    The 
mail  had  just  come  in  from  London  vxa 
Calais,-6.3o  p.m.,  I  think  it  was,  or  there- 
abouts.-and  the  passengers  were  hunting 
up  their  luggage  in  the  great  room  with 
the  horse-shoe  stands,  where  the  customary 
.  official  examination  takes  place-"  used  to 
take  place,"   I  ought  perhaps  to  have  ex- 
pressed  it,  but  I  daresay  that  part  of  the 
business  remains   unaltered   still.     I   had 
come  over  with  the  boat.  and.  as  I  had  no 
registered  baggage,  and  my  little  hand- 
valise  had  been  opened  on  landing  I  was 
free  to  depart  in  peace.     But  1  stroUed.  all 
the  same,  into  the  bare,  bustling      Salle 
des  Douanes,"  for  I  had  to  keep  an  eye  on 
my  -  party  "-the  people  I  was  watching 
on  behalf  of  the  office.     1  was  in  atten- 


'» ■'!  I 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  9 

dance— unknown  and  undesired— on  a 
young  couple  who  innocently  believed 
they  were  running  away  from  their  respec- 
tive papas.  They  were  very  fond  and 
harmless,  those  young  people,  and  I  could 
see  him  eagerly  unstrapping  her  boxes  and 
dropping  her  keys.  I  had  an  easy  time 
with  my  lovers,  and  plenty  of  opportunity 
for  looking  about  me. 

So  I  wandered  in  and  out  among  the 
excited,  irritable  groups,  in  search  of  some- 
thing to  interest  me,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  my  attention  was  attracted  by  an 
old  lady  and  her  daughter,  who    stood 
before  a  mountain  of,  as   yet,  unopened 
luggage.    How  well  I  remember  first  see- 
ing them  standing  there,  and  how  little 
I   guessed  at  the  time— but  that  is  an 
expression  I  am  stealing  from  some  novel 
I  have  read,  and  I  have  sworn  to  myself  to 
eschew  all  pretence  at  fine  writing,  for 
what  is  the  use  of  mounting  a  horse  which 
you  know  beforehand  you  can't  ride  ? 
It  is  true,  however,  that  those  two  ladies 


■\  — 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

were  to  play  an  important,  though  not  the 
principal,  part  in  the  tragedy  of  which  this 
was — for  me,  at  any  rate — the  opening 
scene.  One  of  them  was  old,  as  I  have 
said — at  least,  she  seemed  fifty  or  there- 
abouts— fat,  fair,  and  fussy,  with  a  hot  face, 
an  agitated  manner,  and  a  loud  voice. 
The  custom  house  formalities  were  evi- 
dently a  great  trouble  to  her,  as  they  are  to 
so  many  people,  and  she  stood  there  com- 
plaining to  her  daughter,  and  grumbling  at 
her  maid,  and  appealing  to  the  cool,  green- 
coated  officials  in  a  rather  comical  manner. 
The  daughter — a  tall,  impressive-looking 
girl,  with  a  quiet  fire  in  her  dark  eyes — did 
not  seem  to  approve  of  her  mother's  noisy 
agitation. 

"  Hush,  mamma  1 "  I  heard  her  whisper 
repeatedly.  *'  He  will  attend  to  you  im- 
mediately. It  will  be  all  right,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"  But  I  do  hope,  Edith,"  answered  the 
mother  excitedly,  "  that  they  will  not  open 
your  tiresome  black  box." 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


II 


not  the 
ich  this 
jopening 
I  have 
»r  there- 
ict  face, 
I    voice, 
ere   evi- 
ey  are  to 
ere  com- 
nbling  at 
d1,  green- 
manner, 
e-looking 
;yes— did 
er's  noisy 

r  whisper 

you  im- 

you  may 

vered  the 
not  open 


"  If  they  ask,"  said  the  daughter  uncon- 
cernedly, "I  shall  tell  them  it  contains 
photographic  apparatus,  that  is  all." 

As  she  was  speaking,  an  official,  who 
had  been  standing  idly  by,  magnificently 
indifferent  to  entreaties  from  all  quarters, 
condescended  to  lurch  lazily  in  their  direc- 
tion, and  was  immediately  hailed  afresh  by 
one  of  the  porters  in  blue  blouses,  who  had 
constituted  themselves  guardians  of  the 
English  ladies  and  their  plentiful  luggage. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  declare  ? " 
queried  the  officer,  in  French. 

The  old  lady  had  spread  out  the  contents 
of  her  traveling-bag  on  the  counter  before 
her.  She  took  upon  herself  to  answer  in 
voluble  English. 

*'  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  or,  at  least,  I  mean 
yes.  There  is  this  eau  de  Cologne,  only 
the  cork's  drawn  ;  and  there's  a  little  Irish 
whisky  in  this  case,  and  I  have  a  pound 
and  a  half  of  four-and-sixpenny  Souchong, 
— four-and-sixpence,  cost  price,  at  the 
London  stores, — and  that  is  all." 


W 


! 


M 


IS 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


The  official — I  remember  he  was  a  surly- 
looking,  yellow-faced  Frenchman,  with  a 
tawny  moustache — listened  attentively. 
He  let  his  eyes  wander  contemptuously 
over  the  very  neat  collection  of  boxes  and 
baskets  ;  then  he  pointed  to  a  large,  brass- 
fitted  trunk. 

"  Ouvrez-moi  fa"  he  said.  He  looked  a 
little  farther.  **  Et  fa"  he  added ;  and,  as 
he  uttered  the  words,  he  laid  his  hand  on  an 
oblong  box. 

"  Oh,  not  that  one,  mongsew ! "  cried  the 
old  lady  in  a  flutter ;  ''  it  is  such  a  trouble 
to  unfasten  the  cording,  and  we  had  to  do 
it  up  in  that  manner  because  the  lock  is  not 
sufficiently  safe." 

The  custom  house  officer  did  not  reply. 
One  of  the  little  blue  porters  attacked  the 
knot  at  the  top  of  the  box,  which  was 
secured  crossways  with  a  stout  rope.  I 
happened  to  notice  the  knot  as  the  man's 
fingers  fumbled  over  it. 

The  young  lady  bent  over  the  partition. 
.  "  We  should  feel  obliged,"  she  said,  in  a 


m 


^ 


mmmm 


mmmmm 


surly' 
ith  a 

tively. 
ously 

es  and 

,  brass- 

)oked  a 
and,  as 
don  an 

ried  the 

trouble 

ad  to  do 

:k  is  not 

ot  reply, 
eked  the 
ich  was 
rope.  I 
le  man's 

partition, 
said,  in  a 


r//£  BLACJC-BOX  MURDER.  jj 

low,  earnest  voice,  and  correct,  though 
indifferent,  French,  "if  you  would  order 
one  of  the  other  boxes  to  be  opened. 
That  one  is  troublesome  to  undo." 

The  official  bowed. 

"  I  am  desolated,  mademoiselle,"  he  said, 
**  but  I  have  designated  the  black  one.  I 
can  make  no  alteration,"  and  he  moved 
away  to  the  next  group. 

The  girl  drew  back,  looking  annoyed 
and  offended.  She  turned  upon  her 
mother  with  what  I  considered  unnecessary 
asperity. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  she  said,  "  but  you 
would  have  that  rope  put  round  in  London. 
It  is  the  very  thing  to  excite  suspicion, 
mamma." 

"  You  know  who  advised  it,"  said  the 
mother  helplessly. 

She  seemed  past  caring.  She  was 
occupied  in  keeping  the  porter's  dirty 
fingers,  as  far  as  possible,  from  digging 
down  among  the  snowy  linen  in  her  own 
big  trunk,  and  she  was  angrily  repeating 


H!  ,'^1 


.1 


14  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

to  them  her  orders  to  call  the  '*  mongsew  ' 
back  instanter. 

The  little  group  amused  me.  I  could 
see  my  couple  of  turtle  doves  busily 
engaged  over  their  brand-new  luggage 
still.  They  must  pass  near  me  in  going 
out. 

I  turned  again  to  the  ladies  by  whom  I 
was  standing.  I  was  close  behind  them. 
The  yellow-faced  functionary  had  come 
back  ;  he  had  tumbled  the  clothes  about  in 
the  trunk,  and  had  passed  on  with  a 
splendid  gesture  of  clemency  to  the  black 
box.     The  rope  had  been  loosened. 

*' Les clefs"  said  a  porter.     "  Donnez  les 
clefsy 

The  young  lady  held  out   one  on  a 
bunch.     It  was  a  common  brass  key. 

"  That  is  the  key,"  she  said. 

They  fitted  it  into  the  lock,  and  tried  to 
turn  it.     It  would  not  work. 

*■* Ce tiest pas celle-lh"  said  the  man. 

Somebody  tugged  at  it  and  twisted  it, 
but  in  vain.     Somebody  else  drew  it  out, 


sew 

I  could 
)usily 
rgage 
going 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  15 

all  bent,  and  began  trying  another  key  on 
the  bunch.  But  the  girl  stopped  him  with 
a  swift  movement. 

"  That  is  the  key,"  she  said,  "  and  no 
other.     You  need  not  injure  the  lock." 

They  tried  again. 

"  Burst  it  open,"  said  the  customs  officer 
in  a  low  voice.     "  That  is  not  the  key." 

Burst  it  open !  The  command  was 
mercilessly  obeyed,  in  spite  of  the  older 
lady's  indignant  and  imploring  protests. 
The  young  one  said  nothing.  After  that 
one  unavailing  appeal,  she  stood  silently 
defiant. 

The  lock  was  forced,  and  the  lid  thrown 
back.  A  white  towel  lay  over  the  con- 
tents of  the  box,  unequally  spread  out  in 
little  heights  and  hollows.  Full  in  view, 
on  the  towel,  were  the  letters  "  E.  R.," 
marked  in  red. 

One  of  the  men  drew  back  this  cloth.  I 
stepped  forward,  from  sheer  curiosity,  to 
see  what  there  was  in  this  wonderful  box 
they  had  had  such  a  trouble  to  open.    A 


I 


ii  '■'  I 


10  rffB  BLACK  BOX  MURDEF 

mass,  strangely  doubled  up— a  parcel, 
apparently,  wrapped  in  a  black  cloth— or 
shawl— very  heavy,  whatever  it  was— a— 
great  Heaven,  no— a  human  body— the 
body  of  an  old  woman  dressed  in  black  ! 

I  shall  never  forget  that  moment.  Even 
now,  all  involuntarily,  my  hand  trembles 
with  excitement  as  I  recall  it  after  so  many 

years. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  box  but  that 
white  towel  and  the  body,  which  had  been 
wedged  in  and  battered  down  so  as  to 
•  keep  steady.  It  had  been  squeezed  into 
this  improvised  coffin  with  the  head 
pressed  tight  against  the  stomach,  the  legs 
having  been  lifted  up  and  rolled  round.  1 1 
was  very  much  pushed  out  of  shape;  it 
had  stiffened  in  this  position,  and  they  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  in  dragging  it  out. 

I  had  been  too  much  occupied  with  the 
box  itself  to  remember  anything  else.  I 
now  looked  round,  and  perceived  that  the 
old  lady  had  fainted  away,  and  was  lying 
helpless  and  unnoticed  on  the  floor,  while 


4uK> 


•■•■ 


THE  BLACh'-BvX  MURDER. 


»7 


the  young  one  stood  as  if  struck  to  marble, 
pale  to  the  lips,  staring,  staring  at  the  dead 
body  which  the  officials  had  laid  out  on  the 
table.  All  the  travelers  still  left  in  the 
room  came  crowding  round,  and  there 
were  cries  of  horror  and  amazement.  My 
own  unsuspecting  clients  were  among  the 
rest. 

"  II  faui  en /inir"  said  an  official  with  a 

broad  silver  band  round  his  cap.     He  had 

only  just    recovered   from    his    surprise. 

Several  of  the  policemen  who  always  stand 

about  the  doors  had  come  up.     The  room 

was  cleared,  the  dead  body  carried  away, 

and  the  two  ladies  walked  out  in  custody. 

What  am   I   saying?     Is  this  how  men 

write   history?     The  old  lady  remained 

unconscious,  and  they  had  to  lift  her  up 

like  a  second  corpse.     It  was  the  young 

one  who  marched  past  me,  white  and  erect, 

with  a  sergent  de  ville  on  either  side.    They 

took  her  away  to  some  other  part  of  the 

building,  through  a  side  door,  while  I  found 

myself  pushed  out  into  the  great  court- 


It  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

yard,  where  I  watched  my  young  couple 
get  into  one  of  those  convenient  little 
station  omnibuses,  and  heard  them  order 
the  driver  to  take    them  to    the  Grand 

Hotel. 

I  have  already  said  that  I  had  accident- 
ally noticed  the  knot  of  the  rope  round  the 
black  box.  I  recalled  this  circumstance 
as  soon  as  I  stepped  out  into  the  air. 

The  knot  had  been  fastened  by  a  left- 
handed  person. 


'Hi; 


couple 

(  little 

order 

Grand 

cident- 
ind  the 
istance 

• 

a  left- 


THE  BLACK' BOX  MURDER, 


CHAPTER  III. 


WHO  DID  IT. 


Having  safely  deposited  my  fugitives  in 
their  hotel,  and  telegraphed  to  the  young 
lady's  father,  on  whose  behalf  I  was  work- 
ing, I  walked  leisurely  down  the  boulevard, 
rui.inating  on  the  strange  scene  of  which  I 
had  just  been  a  casual  spectator.  I  was 
far  more  interested— to  tell  the  truth — in 
the  ladies  whose  unexpected  arrest  I  had 
witnessed,  than  in  the  pair  of  cooing  lovers 
whom  the  office  had  entrusted  to  my  care. 
The  case  of  these  lovers  was  not  especially 
a:tractive,  of  a  surety.  The  young  man 
was  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  large  pro- 
perty, and  the  young  woman's  relations 
were  by  no  means  averse  to  the  idea  that 
matters  should  reach  a  stage  which  would 
render  backing  out  an  impossibility.  No 
««cret  would  be  made  of  the  elopement. 


v 


i:k 


9.0 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


I  was  there  in  the  character  of  a  spy,  and  a 
possible  witness.  You  have  to  take  the 
work  that  comes  to  hand  in  an  office  such 
as  ours  was. 

But  the  essential  point  for  me  was  that  I 
should  be  certain  to  be  detained  in  Paris 
for  several  days  at  any  rate,  with  plenty  of 
free  time  at  my  disposal.  So  much  the 
better.  I  threw  myself  with  increased 
ardor  into  the  examination  of  the  mystery 
I  had  accidentally  come  across. 

Two  perfectly  harmless-looking,  com- 
mon-place English  ladies,  travelling  from 
London  to  Paris  with  a  certain  number 
of  harmless-looking  trunks  a'.id  boxes, 
and  in  one  of  those  boxes  a  human  body. 
Not  a  commonplace  circumstance,  that 
last  item.    What  did  it  point  to  ? 

Murder,  undoubtedly.  Of  that  one  might 
well  be  certain  from  the  very  first  Here 
was  a  case  of  murder  accidentally  dis- 
covered in  a  most  singular  manner. 

Murder !  A  detective  immediately  asks, 
By  whom  ?    It  is  the  first  question— the 


mmmJiimir 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


31 


)y,  and  a 
:ake  the 
Bee  such 

as  that  I 
.  in  Paris 
plenty  of 
luch  the 
increased 
;  mystery 

ng,  com- 
ling  from 
number 
i  boxes, 
lan  body, 
nee,   that 

one  might 
rst  Here 
itally  dis- 
iner. 

tely  asks, 
stbn — the 


natural  one — ^which  suggests  itself,  even 
before  those  which  have  reference  to  the 
person  murdered.  The  identification  of 
the  body  will  probably  be  possible  to- 
morrow, the  capture  of  the  murderer  may 
not.  "Who  is  it?"  "Who  did  it?"  The 
two  pull  together,  but  "  ^A'^ho  did  it  ? '' 
pulls  hardest  in  the  detective's  brain. 

I  had,  as  yet,  no  opportunities  for  an- 
swering either  of  these  questions,  but  I 
could  not  help  repeating  them  all  the  same. 
Two  females  and  their  maid — but  never 
mind  about  the  maid  for  a  moment — had 
been  arrested  with  the  corpse  in  their  pos- 
session. W^hat  did  I  know  about  those 
two  females  ? 

Next  to  nothing,  you  will  say.  True, 
and  yet,  in  my  then  profession,  a  great 
deal. 

I  knew,  to  begin  with,  their  name — or 
the  name  they  called  themselves  by.  I 
had  already  seen  "  Mrs.  Orr-S!mpkinson, 
passenger  from  London  to  Paris,"  on  a 
number  of  luggage-labels.    "  Orr-Simpkin- 


% 


:|i 


^  SRI 
f^  ill 


if 
'i 


M  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

son,"  doubtless,  was  what  the  old  lady 
called  herself;  and,  whether  it  happened  to 
be  her  correct  name  or  not,  it  was  un- 
doubtedly the  one  she  had  left  London 
under.  I  knew,  secondly,  where  they 
came  from — or,  rather,  I  knew  where 
they  came  from  last.  The  two  ladies, 
and  the  box,  and  the  body,  had  been  in 
London  that  morning  up  to  eleven  o'clock. 

I  knew,  moreover,  the  incidents  of  the 
discovery,  and  I  carefully  recapitulated 
them.  The  question  before  me  was  as 
follows  :  It  is,  of  course,  as  yet  impossi- 
ble to  say  who  committed  the  murder, 
but  is  it  worth  while  to  take  either  of 
these  two  females,  and  work  her  out  as 
a  possible  "  case  ?  "  I  put  the  old  lady 
on  one  side  for  the  moment.  Her  be- 
havior during  the  scene — her  whole  per- 
sonality--seemed  to  preclude  the  idea 
of  her  being  a  murderess. 

There  was  only  one  serious  point  against 
her.  It  was  not  so  much  her  reluctance 
to  having  the    box  opened,   as    the  cord 


T 


>ld  kdy 
)ened  to 
was  un- 

London 

re   they 

where 

t  ladies, 

been  in 
I  o'clock, 
s  of  the 
pitulated 

was  as 
impossi- 

murder, 
:ither  of 
;r  out  as 
old  lady 
Her  be- 
lole  per- 
the   idea 

It  against 
eluctance 
the  cord 


T/fE  BLACK.BOX' MURDER.  ,^ 

would  account  for  that,  but  it  was  the 
fact  of  my  having  heard  her  own  daugh> 
ter  say  to  her  in  an  undertone,—'*  I  told 
you  so,  but  you  would  have  that  rope 
put  round  in  London.  It  is  the  very 
thing  to  excite  suspicion."  But  even  those 
words  might  have  been  used  with  a 
general  meaning;  and,  at  the  worst,  it 
seemed  wost  unlikely  that  the  mother 
would  ever  prove  to  be  anything  more 
than  an  accessory  after  the  deed. 

But  the  daughter  >  There  appeared  to 
be  a  good  deal  more  reason  to  distrust 
the  daughter.  She  was,  as  I  have  said, 
a  dark,  impressive-looking  girl,  with  plenty 
of  character  in  her  face,  and  did  not  look 
the  kind  of  person  who  would  draw  back 
for  a  trifle.  Still,  one  does  not  soon 
accuse  a  harmless  you..-  lady,  travelling 
with  her  mother,  of  the  most  terrible  of 
crimes.  But  then,  few  young  ladies  travel 
with  corpses  in  their  trunks. 

The  young  lady's  anxiety  not  to  have 
the    box    opened    had    been    extremely 


!l 


Ff  fir> 


n  i!|' 


ai  7VZ£  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

marked.  Natural  in  itself,  perhaps,  it  had, 
under  the  circumstances,  become  suspi- 
cious. And  another  item,  in  addition  to 
this,  appeared  of  still  greater  importance. 
When  summoned  to  obey,  she  had  refused 
the  key. 

There  was  dio  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the 
key  she  had  proffered  was  the  wrong  one. 
She  had  refused  the  key. 

What  reason  could  she  have  for  doing 
so,  unless  she  was  anxious  to  prevent  the 
opening  of  the  box  at  any  cost,  and 
expected  the  officials  to  give  way,  and 
content  themselves  with  some  other  article 
of  luggage  ?  She  had  reiterated  that  the 
key  was  the  right  one.  It  evidently  was 
not.     She  had  told  a  lie. 

I  have  noticed,  during  my  brief  detective 
career,  and  I  have  found  the  remark  repeated 
by  colleagues  of  far  greater  experience, 
that,  when  you  find  any  one  willing  boldly 
to  speak  or  act  a  lie,  you  may  safely 
presume  the  possibility — not  more  than  the 


T 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  « 

possibility,  mind  you— of  every  other  crime. 
He  who  can  He  may  kill. 

Everything  pointed  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  young  lady— Miss  Simpkinson,  I 
supposed  she  called  herself— was  perfectly 
well  aware  of  the  strange  contents  of  the 
box.  And  this  in  itself,  surely,  appeared 
sufficiently  remarkable.  So  much  being 
admitted,  everything  became  possible. 

Still,  I  could  not  persuade  myself  that 
Miss  Simpkinson  was  the  actual  murderess. 
Intuitions  and  impressions,  if  rightly  con- 
trolled (ah.  there's  the  rub!),  go  a  long 
way  towards  making  a  good  detective.    I 
had  an  intuition  that    Miss   Simpkinson 
would  not  prove  to  be  the  person  who  had 
done  the  deed,  although  it  must  remain 
evident  that  she  was  in  some  manner  con- 
nected with  it.     In  what    manner   time 
must  show. 

The  whole  mystery,  you  will  say,  was  no 
business  of  mine.  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
admit  that.  I  had  no  right  to  inquire  into 
it,  and  but  little  opportunity  of  doing  so, 


i 


a$  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

but  I  felt  inexplicably  drawn  towards  it  all 
the  same.  I  could  not  keep  my  thoughts 
off"  that  scene  in  the  custom-house.  The 
thin,  old  face,  with  its  staring  eyes,  seemed 
to  look  out  at  me  from  all  the  shop 
windows.  Who  kUled  that  poor  old 
woman?  Why  was  she  killed?  I  felt 
that  I  must  occupy  myself  with  the  subject, 
whether  I  wished  to  or  not. 


rds  it  all 
houghts 
e.  The 
seemed 
16  shop 
oor  old 
I  felt 
subject. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


*l 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  TWO  DUBERTS. 

I  HAVE  said  that  I  had  but  Kttle  oppor- 
tunity  of  investigating  the  matter.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  had  just  one  chance,  the 
merest  chance,  of  finding  out  something 
more  about  it. 

Some  months  ago  I  had  come  into  con- 
tact with  a  Parisian  commissaire  de  police 
in   the  course  of  my  professional  duties. 
My  employers  always    selected   me  for 
Continental  work,  because  of  my  having 
learnt  French  thoroughly  well  in  my  youth. 
I  had  been  sent  to  Paris  about  a  case  of 
breach  of  confidence,  and,  finding  myself 
obliged  to  work  together  with  Monsieur 
Dubert  (that  was  the  commissary's  name), 
I  had  been  enabled  to  do  him  a  trifling 


I 


\ 


iS  r»E  B LACK-BOX  MURDER. 

irvice.  I  had  not  seen  him  since,  but  I 
resolved  to  call  on  him  now.  There  was 
but  little  possibility  of  his  being  able  to 
help  me  in  any  way,  only  you  never  can 
know. 

I  found  my  police  officer  in  his  little 
office  near  the  Pantheon.  That  was 
where  his  district  lay.  He  was  evidently 
most  delighted  to  see  me,  though  perhaps 
a  little  effiisive  for  ^n  Englishman's  taste. 
He  knew  nothing  as  yet  of  what  had 
occurred  at  the  Gare  du  Nord  a  couple  of 
hours  ago.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  was 
anxious  to  follow  up  the  discovery,  and 
added  that  perhaps  the  French  Govern- 
ment might  be  able  to  turn  my  unexpected 
presence  to  account. 

And  now  good  luck  befriended  me.  But 
no,  that  is  saying  too  much.  For  surely 
there  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  fact 
that  Monsieur  Dubert,  though  he  found 
himself  outside  the  case  altogether,  should 
know  of  brotlier  officers  who  would  natu- 


%\ 


mmk 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  99 

rally  be  in  it.  Only,  as  it  happened,  the 
commissary  of  the  quarter  directly  con- 
cerned was,  he  told  me,  a  relation  of  his. 
I  don't  see  that  this  made  much  difference 
in  my  favor,  after  all.  I  forget  now 
whether  the  man  was  a  brother  or  a 
cousin.  I  fancy  he  must  have  been  a 
cousin,  but,  at  all  events,  the  name  was  the 
same.  My  Monsieur  Dubert  was  L6on. 
and  the  commissary  up  at  the  station  was 
Francois. 

My  friend  immediately  offered  to  take 
me  up  to  see  his  cousin — if  cousin  it  was. 
He  was  on  duty  for  half-an-hour  longer, 
during  which  I  had  to  curb  my  impatience 
as  best  I  might,  and  to  amuse  myself  by 
observing  the  numerous  little  formalities 
and  punctilios  of  French  police  service. 
They  are  capital  policemen,  all  the  same, 
especially  the  gendarmes,  and  the  serviu 
de  surety. 

The  half  hour  came  to  an   end,   and 
Monsieur  Dubert  locked  up  his  desk.    We 


IP  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

got  into  a  cab,  and  drove  the  long  distance 
up  into  the  north  of  the  city.  And  there, 
in  a  similar  little  office,  we  found  Monsieur 
Fran9ois. 

He  knew  enough  about  the  discovery, 
you  may  be  sure.  All  that  evening  he 
had  heard  of  nothing  else,  spoken  of 
nothing  else,  thought  of  nothing  else. 
He  was  a  talkative,  excitable  little  man, 
not  the  best  material  for  a  police  officer, 
I  should  have  thought.  But  one  is  often 
very  much  mistaken  in  judgments  of  that 
nature. 

On  this  occasion  he  was,  I  believe,  more 
especially  excited,  on  account  of  the  im- 
portance and  the  difficulties  of  this  half- 
foreign  case.  Of  course  he  spoke  no 
language  but  his  own — French  officials, 
like  our  English  ones,  never  do — and  the 
ladies  in  arrest  being  foreigners,  the  box 
having  come  from  abroad,  the  whole  inves- 
tigation was  complicated  with  foreign 
matter.    His  interpreter,  he  complained. 


distance 
id  there, 
lonsieur 


scovery, 
:ntng  he 
sken  of 
\g  else, 
tie  man, 
!  officer, 
is  often 
i  of  that 

/e,  more 
the  im- 
his  half- 
poke  no 
officials, 
-and  the 
the  box 
le  inves- 
foreign 
iplained, 


r/JE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  3, 

had  proved  inadequate.  He  was  all  the 
more  willing  to  accept  of  such  assistance  as 
I  could  offer.  It  turned  out  to  be  even 
less  than  I  had  hoped. 

He  began  by  telling  us  exactly  how 
matters  stood  at  this  moment.  The  older 
lady,  it  appeared,  had  not  yet  recovered 
consciousness.  She  was  delirious,  and  had 
been  removed  to  the  infirmary  by  the 
advice  of  the  medical  man  connected  with 
the  "Commissariat."  The  commissaire 
did  not  believe  that  she  would  prove  to 
be  seriously  implicated  in  the  case. 

The  young  lady  and  the  maid  had  under- 
gone a  preliminary  examination.  As  for 
the  maid,  she  evidently  knew  nothing 
about  the  whole  matter.  As  for  the  young 
lady,  she  evidently  knew  a  great  deal. 

The  maid  had  not  been  able  even  to 
identify  the  deceased,  whom  she  positively 
affirmed  never  to  have  seen  before  in  her 
life.  From  her  evidence  two  points  had 
been  made  clear,  nevertheless. 


.-^m 


ill 


||  TNE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER 

(i)  That  the  deceased  had  not  been  in 
company  of  the  Simpkinsons  during  the 
time  immediately  preceding  the  murder,  as 
their  maid  did  not  recognize  her. 

(2)  That  the  black  box  was  Miss 
Simpkinson's  property,  for  the  maid  had 
identified  the  box. 

Miss  Simpkinson's  examination  had 
naturally  been  of  much  greater  interest. 
Monsieur  Fran9ois  Dubert  obligingly 
showed  me  his  proch-verbal.  Never  mind 
whether  he  ought  to  have  done  so ;  he  was 
glad  enough  to  think  I  could  help  him  in 
the  business. 

Miss  Simpkinson's  behavior  certainly 
was  peculiar,  and  altogether  precluded  the 
possibility  of  her  complete  innocence.  She 
had  answered  one-half  of  the  questions  put 
to  her,  and  refused  to  answer  the  other 
half.  She  had  confessed  readily  enough 
that  her  name  and  her  mother's  was  "  Orr- 
Simpkinson,"  as  indicated  on  the  boxes, 
and  that  they  had  left  London  on  that 
mornuig,  after  having  spent  the  night  at  a 


been  in 
ring  the 
irder,  as 

\s    Miss 
laid  had 

on  had 
interest, 
bligingly 
ver  mind 
;  he  was 
ip  him  in 

certainly 
[uded  the 
ce.  She 
itions  put 
he  other 
f  enough 
ras  "  Orr- 
le  boxes, 
I  on  that 
light  at  a 


^■ 


THE  BLACKBOX  MURDER.  33 

private  hotel.*     But  when  questioned  as 
to  her  regular  place  of  abode,  or  her  where- 
abouts on  the  preceding  day,  she  had  sud- 
denly refused   to  reply.    Then  she  had 
reconsidered  her  decision,  and  subsequently 
given  her  accurate  address  at   Tooting, 
adding  that  she  had  come  up  to  the  hotel 
with  her  mother  the  day  before,  so  as  to  b< 
nearer  the  station  in  the  morning.     Tlf 
maid,  on  being  recalled,  had  upset  thj 
latter  statement,  in  spite  of  vehement  sign/ 
from  her  young  mistress,  and  had  informtj 
the  commissary  that  the  ladies  had   beci 
spending  the  last  three  weeks  together  n 
Southend,  and  that  it  was  from  Southend, 
and  not  from  Tooting,  they  had  come  up  to 
London.     It  now  came  out,  also,  that  the 
maid  had  not  been  with  them  during  this 
time,  but  had  joined  them  that  morning  at 
the  station,  coming  from  the  Tooting  house. 

*  I  may  say  here,  once  for  all,  that  I  have,  of  course, 
substituted  other  names  for  the  original  ones  .11 
through  this  narration.  Only  the  initials  have  been 
retained  in  each  case. 

3 


34  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.     ^    .  j- 

This  might  explain  the  fact  of  her,  recog- 
nizing the  murdered  lady.  At  ahy  rate 
—this  conclusion  seemed  certain— Miss 
Simpkinson  knew  who  the  dead  woman 
was,  and  the  maid  did  not.  *'  And  oh, 
dear,  Miss,"  the  maid  had  said,  bursting 
into  tears,  '*  you  know  as  it's  the  Gospel 
truth  I'm  telling,  and  why  don't  you  send 
for  Mr.  Harvey  ?  " 

After  that  the  commissary's  tone  had 
grown  sterner,  and  Miss  Simpkinson's 
manner  yet  more  refractory.  Miss  Simp- 
kinson had  acknowledged,  however,  that 
the  box  was  undoubtedly  hers.  And  the 
key,  she  said,  was  hers  also. 

A  towel  had  been  found  in  the  box. 
Was  the  towel  hers  ?  "  No."  Did  she 
know,  or  believe  she  knew,  whose  it  might 
possibly  be?  She  could  not  say.  It  was 
marked  with  the  letters  «  E.  R ; "  had  she 
any  idea  what  name  those  letters  could 
stand  for  ?    She  refused  to  answer. 

The  linen  of  the  deceased  had  been  found 
to  bear  the  same  letters ;  it  was  probable, 


ier,recog- 
ahy  rate 
ain— Miss 
id  woman 
''And  oh, 
i,  bursting 
the  Gospel 
t  you  send 

i  tone  had 
impkinson's 
Miss  Simp- 
wever,  that 
And  the 

the  box. 

Did  she 
ose  it  might 
ay.    It  was 

'  had  she 
etters  could 
wer. 

d  been  found 
as  probable, 


T//£  B LACK-BOX  MURDER.  35 

therefore,  that  the  towel  had  belonged  to 
her.  Could  Miss  Simpkinson  identify  the 
deceased  } 

*'Yes." 

I  started  when  I  reached  this  point  in  the 
proch-verbcUy  and  yet,  after  all,  it  was  no 
more  than  might  have  been  expected.  But 
I  started  yet  more  when  I  read  the  next 
two  lines. 

**  Would  she  do  so?" 

«  No." 

It  had  been  impossible  to  get  anything 
more  out  of  her.  Threats  and  entreaties 
had  alike  proved  vain.  The  commissary 
had  closed  the  preliminary  inquiry  in  de- 
spair, and  the  English  young  lady  had  been 
sent  to  the  D4p6t  on  the  charge  of  murder 
of  a  person  unknown. 

The  commissary's  mind  was  made  up  on 
the  subject.  I  havv*?  only  one  charge  against 
Continental  :riminal  procedure,  but  it  is  a 
serious  one.  It  does  not  give  the  accused, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  a  ghos:t  of  a  chanc . 
Once  arrested,  he  is  pronounced  gui^.j 


I 


mm 


36 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


immediately,  and  henceforth  judges  and 


public  prosecutors  have  b"t  one  object — 
to  bully  or  cheat  him  into  confesiir.^f  his 
crime.  I  have  often  heard  intelligent  for- 
eigners— my  Monsieur  Dubert  for  one — 
admit  this  fact  and  deplore  it. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  L^on  Dubert 
joined  with  his  cousin  in  suspecting  Miss 
Simpkinson.  It  only  remained  to  be  seen 
in  how  far  she  had  accomplices,  or  -w  is  her 
Belf,  perhaps,  but  an  accessory,  for  theis 
could  not  be  the  slightest  doubt,  they  were 
agreed,  that  she  was  very  seriously  impli- 
cated. I  admitted  they  were  right.  They 
summed  up  all  the  items  against  her,  and 
they  certainly  made  out  a  very  heavy  bill. 
She  had  been  aware  from  the  very  first  of 
the  horrible  contents  of  the  box,  which,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  she  was  piloting  out 
of  the  kingdom.  Why  had  she  traveled 
with  it  ?  Probably  to  bring  the  dead  body 
where  it  could  be  buried  or  abandoned 
with  less  fear  of  recognition.  She  had 
evidently  trusted  to  chance,  the  abundance 


r^iVj 


wmammmm 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


37 


Tcs  and 
abject — 
liir.g  his 
^ent  for- 
)r  one — 


\  Dubert 
ing  Miss 
)  be  seen 
>\  IS  hes 
for  thei3 
hey  were 
sly  impli- 
it.  They 
her,  and 
eavy  bill, 
ry  first  of 
urbich,  for 
oting  out 
traveled 
ead  body 
sandoned 
She  had 
bundance 


of  her  luggage,  her  own  powers  of  persua- 
sion, the  cord,  the  lost  key — to  all  these 
things  together,  i.i  her  hope  of  avoiding 
attention,  and  it  was  only  by  '\  combination 
of  fatalities,  and  the  ungracious  obstinacy 
of  the  officials,  that  her  plan  had  been  frus- 
trated. So  much  was  plain  to  the  French- 
men as  well  as  to  myself. 

It  was  furthermore  certain  that  she  knew 
about  the  murder,  and  that  the  name  of  the 
victim  was  also  no  secret  to  her.  She  had 
striven  to  mislead  M.  Dubert  altogether 
with  regard  to  her  stay  in  Southend.  She 
had  admitted  that  the  box  in  which  the 
body  was  found  was  hers — her  maid  had 
proved  that  besides, — ^and  she  had  refused 
any  information  with  regard  to  the  towel  it 
contained. 

The  maid,  by-the-bye,  had  also  been 
questioned  about  this  towel,  and  from  her 
evidence  it  had  become  certain  that  it  did 
not  belong,  and  could  not  have  belonged, 
to  Mrs.  Simpkinson's  linen  stores.  My 
first  impression  had  been  that  the  letters 


I 


I 


% 


11^ 


i«H 


3$  Tim  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 

might  have  been  added  to  purposely  con- 
fute, but  this  was,  of  course,  removed  when 
I  learned  from  M.  Fran?ois  Dubert  that 
the  murdered  woman's  linen  war  marked 
in  the  same  manner.  The  towel  Ivd  be- 
longed to  her. 


•\ 


\ 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  LUGGAGE-LABED!. 

**So  much  is  undeniable/*  said  L^n  Du- 
bert,  as  we  sat  talking  over  the  affair  in 
the  commissary's  bureau ;  "  the  young  lady 
has  the  whole  secret  in  her  keeping.  More 
than  that,  it  is  probably  by  her,  or  at  her 
instigation,  that  the  deed  was  done." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  I  answered ;  "  but  you 
will  find,  mark  me,  that  she  is  not  alone." 

«  Probably,"  said  Lfen. 

"And  even,  believe  me,  you  will  find 
that  she  is  not  number  one." 

"  Why  ?  "  queried  Franfois  in  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  may  be  mistaken, 
but  that  is  what  I  believe." 

"  I  will  tell  you  why,"  interposed  L^n 
laughing.    "She  is  young;  she  is  a  com- 


4' 


\ 


f 


40  THB  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

patriot ;  she  is  pretty.  Is  she  not  pretty  ? 
En/in,  she  is  interesting — and  a  murderess  ? 
Fie !  It  is  too  villainous.  So  there  must 
be  a  number  one.  Beware,  my  friend,  of 
pretty  women  in  a  police-court." 

I  laughed  too^,  but  I  only  nodded  my 
head,  and  asked  whether  we  could  not  see 
the  box  and  the  corpse. 

As  it  happened,  this  was  still  possible. 
The  body  would  be  removed  to  the  Morgue 
early  next  morning,  but  it  had  been  decided 
to  leave  it  for  the  night  at  the  police-station. 
-Fran9ois  Dubert  took  his  cousin  and  me 
into  an  adjoining  room. 

This  room  was  bare,  but  for  a  large 
table, — a  plain  wooden  board  on  trestles, 
— a  long  bench,  and  a  great  white  stove. 
It  had  no  other  exit  than  through  the  com- 
missary's office.  It  was  used  as  a  rule,  I 
believe,  for  such  witnesses  as  he  might 
order  to  be  brought  before  him. 

On  the  long,  narrow  table  the  dead  body 
was  laid  out,  just  as  it  had  been  removed 
from  the  box.     I  examined  it  closely.     It 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


41 


was  the  body  of  a  female,  apparently  be- 
longing to  the  upper  middle-class  ->a  lady 
undoubtedly,  though  rather  a  prim  and  old- 
fashioned  looking  one.  The  age  was,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  establish  it,  between  sixty 
and  sixty-five.  The  deceased  was  dressed 
in  a  long,  plain,  black  gown,  made  of  hand- 
some woollen  stuff,  but  entirely  untrimmed, 
and  wore  neat  cuffs  and  a  tight-fitting 
collar.  She  had  on  a  black  lace  cap,  fast- 
ened with  jet-headed  pins  to  her  grey  hair, 
which  lay  in  smooth  bands  over  a  lofty 
forehead.  The  expression  of  the  pinched, 
parchmenty  face  was  not  an  amiable  one, 
even  in  death.  There  was  a  hard  and 
stingy  look  in  the  staring,  light-blue  eyes, 
and  an  obstinate  twist  about  the  thin  lips. 

"  Ufu  nUchantevteille"  said  L^on. 

I  thought  it  was  more  than  probable. 

She  still  wore  her  watch— a  plain,  ten- 
guinea,  keyless  Bennett,  fastened  by  a  black 
guard.  I  looked  at  it,  and  took  the  num- 
ber. 


i 


I 


4a  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

**  That  will  go  a  long  way  towards  iden- 
tifying her,"  I  said,  "  if  nothing  else  turns 
up. 

There  was  also  a  purse  in  her  pocket, 
marked  "Parkins  and  Gotto,"  and  con- 
taining some  loose  silver,  and  three  sover- 
eigns in  gold  in  a  separate  compartment. 
Furthermore,  the  pocket  contained  a  fine 
cambric  handkerchief  marked  "  E.  R.,"  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  old  lady's  exquisite 
linen. 

Robbery  had  evidently  not  been  the 
motive  of  the  crime.  I  never  had  thought 
it  would  prove  to  be,  from  the  very  first. 

I  lifted  up  the  head  and  removed  the 
cap.  On  pushing  back  the  thin  hair,  I 
found  a  great,  dull,  bloodless  bruise,  high 
up  over  the  left  temple.  I  asked  Francois 
whether  he  had  noticed  it.  He  said,  "  No ; 
the  examination  of  the  body  would  take 
place  to-morrow  at  the  Morgue." 

It  was  evident  that  the  deceased  had 
been  stunned  by  a  blow ;  but  such  a  blow 


^IMI 


Is  iden- 
e  turns 

pocket, 
id  con- 
5  sover- 
irtment. 
I  a  fine 
R.,"  like 
xquisite 

*en  the 
thought 
^  first, 
ved  the 

hair,  I 
se,  high 

rangois 

,  «  No ; 

d  take 

sed  had 
a  blow 


THE  BLACK-BOX  AWRDER.  43 

could  hardly  have  been  sufficient  to  cause 
instantaneous  death. 

It  appeared  far  more  probable  that  chlo- 
roform would  prove  to  be  the  cause  of 
death,  if  no  symptoms  of  poisoning  were 
found  at  the  examination. 

Could  a  woman  have  strurk  the  blow  ? 
I  examined  the  bruise  again.  It  was  diffi- 
cult, of  course,  to  say  for  certain,  but  it 
looked  as  if  great  force  must  have  been 
used  in  striking. 

On  the  whole,  I  did  not  think  it  likely  a 
woman  would  have  proceeded  in  this  man- 
ner. The  chloroform  looked  like  feminine 
work,  but  hardly  the  blow. 

I  asked  in  vain  for  permission  to  undress 
the  body.  M.  Francois  would  not  allow 
any  one  to  do  that  till  the  experts  had  seen 
it.     Of  course  he  was  quite  right. 

I  next  asked,  and  obtained,  permission 
carefully  to  examine  the  box.  I  did  so 
most  minutely,  but  with  indifferent  success. 
It  was  a  plain,  oblong  box,  made  of  some 
stout  wood,  and  painted  black  outside — a 


4« 


THE  BLACX-BOX  MURDER. 


rough,  unvarnished  black.  The  lid  opened 
on  brass  hinges,  and  the  inside  was  lined 
with  a  common  pink-striped  paper.  Against 
the  lid  was  a  square  placard  with  the 
makers'  name,  Browne  &  Elder,  1 1 7  Cheap- 
side — a  noted  London  firm,  I  believe. 

There  was  nothing  at  all  inside  the  box 
but  the  cord  which  had  been  round  it,  and 
which  the  commissary  had  placed  where  it 
now  lay.  The  box  appeared  new,  and  no 
stains  of  blood  or  anything  else  could  be 
perceived  on  the  paper.  There  were  only 
dents  in  it,  and  one  or  two  slight  abrasions 
where  the- limbs  had  been  forced  down. 
Nothing  could  be  learnt  from  the  inside. 

At  first  sight  nothing  could  be  learnt 
from  the  outside  either.  It  was  destined, 
however,  to  furnish  an  important  clue. 

It  was  not  lettered  in  any  way.  I  asked 
Fran9ois  Dubert  whether  it  had  not  had  a 
passenger-label.  He  told  me  no ;  and  that 
this  was  the  more  remarkable  because  all 
the  other  articles  of  luggage,  without 
exception,  showed  the  label  I  had  noticed 


opened 
IS  lined 
\gainst 
ith  the 
Cheap- 
'e. 

;he  box 
[  it,  and 
vhere  it 
and  no 
ould  be 
;re  only 
brasions 
.  down, 
side. 

learnt 
estined, 
ue. 

I  asked 
)t  had  a 
md  that 
ause  all 
without 
noticed 


THE  BLACJCBOX  MURDER.  45 

at  the  station,  "Mrs.  Orr-Simpkinson, 
passenger  from  London  to  Paris."  I  looked 
at  him  earnestly.  "  Make  a  note  of  that, 
monsieur,"  I  said. 

Miss  Simpkinson,  however,  had  easily 
accounted  for  this  fact.  The  luggage-labels 
they  used,  she  said,  were  made  to  tie  on, 
and,  at  the  last  moment,  it  had  been  noticed 
that  the  box  had  no  straps  or  other  fasten- 
ings to  which  anything  could  be  attached. 
It  was  stupidly  made,  as  far  as  that  went. 
The  maid  unexpectedly  corroborated  this 
explanation. 

When  I  say  there  were  no  labels,  I  mean 
there  were  no  such  labels  as  passengers  affix 
for  themselves.  There  were,  of  course,  the 
company's  registered-luggage-papers,  such 
as  are  used  for  luggage  going  abroad.  On 
the  top  of  the  box  was  a  big  capital  "  P," 
on  a  white  ground,  signifying,  I  presume, 
"  Paris,"  or  perhaps  "  passenger's,"  and  in- 
tended for  the  convenience  of  the  custom- 
house officers,  and  on  the  front  side  of  the 


1 


4<  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

box  was  a  smaller  paper  of  a  pale  green 
color,  marked  as  follows : — 

u         LONDON    (^^^S's^)    f  ^ 


I 


212 


PARIS. 


Not  very  hopeful  this.  Otherwise,  the 
sides  of  tlie  box  were  perfectly  black  and 
smooth.  I  lifted  it  up  and  looked  under- 
neath. It  was  perfectly  smooth  and  black 
there  too. 

I  may  remark  here  that  a  locksmith  had 
been  called  in,  and  that  he  had  declared, 
after  examination,  that  the  key  W  Simp- 
kinson  had  produced  was  not  inl  J  for 
the  lock,  and  could  never,  by  any  possibi- 
lity, have  been  used  either  to  open  or  shut 
it.  Miss  Simpkinson,  on  hearing  this, 
merely  affirmed  that  the  man  lied. 

I  stood  looking  at  the  box  for  some 
time. 

"  You  could  tell  us  the  mystery,"  I  said 
in  my  mind,  "  if  you  could  but  speak.  What 


K. 


lie  green 


o 


rwise,  the 
(lack  and 
sd  under- 
ind  black 

smith  had 
declared, 
Simp- 
J  for 
y  possibi- 
n  or  shut 
ing    this, 

• 

for  some 

I  said 
kk.  What 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER.  47 

are  you  hiding  ?  Who  thrust  that  wretched 
woman  down  into  you,  and  then  shut  your 
lid  upon  his  crime  ?  W'is  she  dead,  or  still 
half-alive,  when  you  received  her  ?  You 
shall  speak,"  I  went  on  excitedly.  I  was 
fevered  with  the  idea  that  some  help  must 
be  obtainable  from  the  box  itself  in  this 
horrible  search. 

Suddenly  an  idea  struck  me.  I  sug- 
gestedto  Monsieur  Dubert  that  he  should 
carefully  loosen  the  labels  and  see  whether, 
by  any  chance,  another  might  be  hidden 
underneath.  He  shrugged  his  houlders. 
I  believe  he  hardly  dared  to  touch  the 
box. 

•*  It  IS  the  merest  possibility,'*  I  admitted, 
*'  but — ^look  here,  after  all,  the  case  is  in 
your  hands.  What  a  famous  thing  it  would 
be  for  you  if  you  could  find  out  something 
of  importance  before  it  passes  to  the  juge 
eCinstnutiony  as  it  will  in  a  day  or  two. 
You  are  perfectly  entitled  to  do  this,  are 
you  not  ?  " 


48  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "I  am  perfectly 
entitled." 

"  Well  then,  hnrry  up.  I  have  an  idea 
it  will  be  worth  our  while." 

He  consented,  rather  unwillingly.  We 
took  the  "London  to  Paris"  label  first, 
and  began  slowly  loosening  it  in  the 
orthodox  manner.  It  is  always  a  long  job, 
that,  requiring  careful  handling.  At  last, 
however,  the  paper  came  peeling  off,  and 
revealed  the  smooth  black  surface  of  the 
box. 

This  was  a  disappointment,  but  I 
induced  my  two  Frenchmen  to  begin  with 
fresh  energy  on  the  other  label,  the  big 
"  P "  on  a  white  slip.  And  this  time  we 
were  rewarded,  if  you  can  call  so  small  a 
result  a  reward.  There  was  another  paper 
under  the  white  one.  I  held  my  breath  as 
it  slowly  came  into  view.  1 1  stood  revealed 
in  another  moment.  After  all,  there  was 
very  little  on  it.  Only  the  three  words  in 
large  printed  letters,  "  Greenwich  to  South- 
end."    Nothing  else.     It  was  a  common 


^.. 


"1\ 


perfectly 

e  an  idea 

gly.  We 
abel  first, 
t  in  the 
long  job, 
At  last, 
g  off,  and 
ice  of  the 

t,     but    I 

>egin  with 

I,  the  big 

time  we 

o  small  a 

ler  paper 

jreath  as 

revealed 

lere  was 

words  in 

to  South- 

« 

common 


rff£  BLACK.BOX  MURDER,  49 

label,  such  as  the  porters  affix  at  railway 
stations. 

Nothing  else?     I  turned  the  box  fully 
towards  the  light  of  the  flaring  gas-lamp, 
and,  as  I  held  it  there,  close  before  my 
eyes,  staring  at  it,  as  if  I  would  draw  the 
secret  out  of  this  little  paper  that  had  so 
unexpectedly  come  to  light,  I  suddenly 
noticed  two  small  pencilled  letters  in  one 
corner  of  it,  half  effaced  by  the  gum,  oi 
paste,  of  the  label  which  had  covered  them. 
They  were  the  letters  "  P.  H.,"  in  hand- 
writing. 

I  put  down  the  box,  half  dizzy,  i  kne\i 
not  why. 

'*  This  box  came  from  Southend,"  1 
said,  as  calmly  as  I  could. 

•*  Yes,"  replied  L^n,  *•  that  agrees  with 
what  the  maid  told  us." 

I  tated  up  the  box  once  more,  almost 
mechanically,  and,  while  continuing  to  talk 
in  a  desultory  manner  about  the  crime,  I 
strove  to  photograph  those  two  faint  letters 
on  to  my  brain.    I  hardly  knew  why  I  was 


50  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

SO  fascinated  by  them,  but  I  felt  that  I 
here  held  in  my  hand  what  would  turn  out 
to  be,  at  some  future  period,  the  free  end 
of  a  tangled  skein. 

My  surmise  '  jved  correct.  From  the 
beginning  to  the  end,  th*^  story  of  the  dis- 
covery of  the  murder  h.  ^ed  on  those  two 
letters. 

I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  home  and  retrace 
them  on  paper  before  the  recollection  of 
them  grew  faint.  I  bade  the  two  French 
police-officers  a  hurried  farewell. 

"And  if  you  will  accept  of  a  bit  of 
advice,"  I  said,  in  passing  out,  "  don't  let 
anybody  or  anything  touch  or  rub  that 
label  in  any  way  whatsoever.  It's  the 
starting  point." 

The  Frenchmen  looked  bewildered. 
From  that  time  we  worked  on  separate 
lines.  The  foreign  authorities  did  their 
best,  but  they  had  great  difficulties  to 
contend  with,  and  they  were  not  vtJ/ 
successful  in  discovering  the  61ack-B»x 
Murderer. 


^"mm 


^^J6'ja«'i;.^-i---i' 


^fll||^.iiwp>iiijj|i  ,i.Jim.- 


f! 


Til£  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


t  that  I 
turn  out 
free  end 

'rom  the 
'  the  dis- 
[lose  two 

d  retrace 
ection  of 
3  French 

a  bit  of 

don't  let 

rub  that 

It's  the 

wildered. 
separate 
did  their 
ulties  to 
lot  vt„7 
ack-Box 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   MYSTERIOUS  INITIALS. 

As  soon  as  I  got  safely  into  my  own  room, 
I  sat  down  and  copied  the  two  letters  I  had 
seen  in  a  comer  of  the  luggage-label  exactly 
on  a  sheet  of  paper.  I  reproduce  them 
here. 


M 


Let  the  reader  take  note  of  them  as 
closely  as  I  did,  if  he  can. 

Then  I  sat  down  to  recapitulate  what  I 
knew  of  the  incidents  of  the  crime,  and  I 
found  that  I  knew  a  great  deal. 

Murder— presumably  by  a  blow  and 
subsequent  chloroform — on  a  lady  named 


I; 


J«  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

'*  E.  R.";  time,  apparently  yesterday 
evening ;  place,  Southend ;  accomplice— if 
not  actual  perpetrator — in  charge;  name, 
Edith  Orr-Simpkinson. 

I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt,  from  Miss 
Simpkinson  s  prevarications,  in  addition  to 
the  discovery  of  the  second  label,  that  the 
plice  of  the  murder  was  Southend.  I 
could  only  not  account  for  the  absence  of 
some  indication  that  the  box  had  travelled 
op  from  Southend  to  London,  as  it  must 
have  done,  before  it  could  start  for  the 
Continent  from  Charing  Cross. 

The  first  thing  now  was  to  find  out  the 
name  of  the  murdered  lady,  and  that  surely 
could  not  be  a  matter  of  great  difticulty 
for  the  police  authorities,  if  they  would 
only  have  the  sense  to  inquire  at  Southend, 
and  not  at  Tooting.  The  next  thing  would 
be  to  explain  the  mystery  of  the  key. 

Was  Miss  Simpkinson  speaking  in  good 
faith  when  she  repeatedly  affirmed  that  the 
key  she  had  in  her  possession  was  that  of 
the  black  box  ? 


isterday 
jUce — if 
;  name, 

>m  Miss 
lition  to 
that  the 
lend.  I 
sence  of 
ravelled 
it  must 
for  the 

out  the 
It  surely 
ifticulty 
would 
uthend, 
g  would 

y- 

in  good 
Ithat  the 
that  of 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  53 

She  had  certainly  proved  that  she  was 
capable  of  gross  untruthfulness,  but  there 
was  a  tone  of  especial  candor  about  her 
statements  with  regard  to  this  matter. 

If  she' lied  about  the  key,  she  was  a  con- 
summate mistress  of  the  art  of  lying. 

I  could  not  quite  believe  her  that.  She 
had  too  honest  and  energetic  a  manner 
about  her. 

But  if  she  was  truthfully  mistaken  about 
the  key,  then — it  seems  the  natural  con- 
clusion—she might  be  mistaken  about  the 
box. 

But  how  could  she  be  that  ?  Her  maid 
had  identified  it,  and  besides,  she  was 
acquainted,  as  he  had  seen,  with  the  con- 
tents. On  the  other  hand,  this  box  had 
been  the  only  one  among  all  her  luggage 
that  was  not  labelled,  and  her  explanation 
of  that  discrepancy  se<.-.ed  hardly  satisfac- 
tory. 

I  was  very  much  confused  and  put  out. 
I  could  not  maintain  the  theory  that  the 
box  mignt    n9(  t>?  MN    Simpkinson's. 


i 


Jl  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Pleasantly  as  it  fitted  into  my  plan,  it  wa& 
too  evidently  irrational.  And,  yet,  I  was 
puzzled  about  the  key  and  the  broken  lock, 
and  those  letters,  P.  H.  In  vain  I  told 
myself  that  those  letters  meant  nothing  at 
all,  and  had  simply  been  pencilled  there  by 
some  porter  or  other  for  reasons  of  his  own. 
I  had  jt!st  half  convinced  myself  of  the 
plausibility  of  this  suggestion,  and  was 
dozing  off  to  sleep,  when  there  flashed 
across  my  brain  the  exclamation  of  the 
maid  which  I  had  read  in  Monsieur  Dubert's 
proch-verbaly — 

"  Why  don't  you  send  for  Mr.  Harvey  ?  " 

"  H — Harvey.  The  merest  coincidence, 
undoubtedly.  Still — Harvey,  Harvey.  P. 
H.  Paul  Harvey.  Peter  Harvey.  Who 
was  this  Mr.  Harvey  ?  ** 

An  intimate  friend,  evidently. 

After  this,  there  was  no  more  chance  of 
sleep  for  me  that  night 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


5S 


CHAPTER  VII. 


AUSTIN. 

Next  morning  my  young  lovers  occupied 
my  attention:  They  provokingly  started 
for  Fontainbleau,  and.  still  more  provo- 
kingly,  were  charmed  with  the  place  when 
they  got  there,  and  looked  for  rooms. 
Fortunately  they  could  find  nothing  to 
their  liking,  and  so  came  back  to  Paris 
again.  Besides,  as  I  heard  the  fond  young 
creature  say,  they  would  be  safer  in  the 
city,  and  less  likely  to  be  traced.  I  wished 
she  had  thought  of  that  before. 

It  was  six  o'clock  and  more  by  the  time 
I  got  to  my  room  again.  My  young 
people  went  to  the  Chatelet  to  amuse 
themselves  with  fairy  scenes,  and  I 
hurriedly  dined   at    a   Duval,    and   then 


ft  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Started  for  L^n  Dubert's  bureau  I  was 
burning  to  find  out  what  progr»ss  had 
been  made  in  the  murder  case.  I  had  not 
been  able  to  banish  it  from  my  thoughts  all 
day. 

L^n  Dubert  knew  nothing  fresh  about 
the  matter,  and  passed  me  on  to  his  cousin 
at  once.  He  was  hard  at  work  on  a 
robbery  of  his  own,  so  I  drove  straight  to 
Francois'  commissariat. 

I  found  Franfois  very  much  troubled  in 
his  mind,  and  very  nervous  and  impatient. 
The  Scotland  Yard  authorities  had  been 
telegraphed  to,  and  they  were  sending  over 
one  of  their  men.  In  the  meantime, 
nothing  oi  importance  had  transpired.  It 
was  still  impossible  to  examine  Mrs.  Simp- 
kinson,  and  nothing  new  could  be  got  out 
of  the  daughter,  who  would  not  speak,  or 
the  maid,  who  had  but  little  to  say. 
Mother  and  daughter  had  been  released 
from  the  D^pdt,  and  allowed  to  take  up 
their  abode  in  a  house  close  by,  which  was, 
in  fact,  a  dependence  of  the  prison,  kept  by 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


57 


I  was 
\;ss  had 
had  not 
lights  all 

sh  about 
is  cousin 
'k  on  a 
raight  to 

lubled  in 

ipatient. 

lad  been 

ing  over 

eantime, 

red.     It 

Simp- 

ypX,  out 

>eak,  or 

to  say. 

released 

take  up 

ich  was, 

cept  by 


a  woman,  who  looked  after  the  prisoners, 
and  remained  responsible  for  their  not 
leaving  their  rooms.  It  bore  the  stately 
title  of  a  ''  Pension  pour  Families"  and 
charged  the  prices  of  a  first-class  hotel. 

I  was  anxious  to  fore.stall  the  London 
detective,  and  to  get  hold  of  a  clue  before 
he  arrived.  During  the  whole  day  I  had 
allowed  my  mind  to  dwell  on  the  circum* 
stances  of  the  case, — I  could  not  help  it, — 
and  the  more  I  had  thought  of  them,  the 
more  firmly  the  conviction  had  fastened 
itself  upon  my  brain  that  Miss  Simpkinson 
was  less  guilty  than  appearances  made  her 
out  to  be.  I  had  certainly  not  much  cause 
for  this  belief.  Perhaps  L4on  was  right, 
and  I  should  have  been  less  interested  in 
the  young  lady  if  she  had  been  older  and 
uglier  than  she  was. 

I  asked  Fran9ois  whether  I  could  not 
obtain  permission  to  see  her.  I  had  been 
contemplating  that  step  all  day.  I  foresaw 
that  it  would  be  productive  of  complica- 
tions, but  the  very  daring  of  it  made  it    * 


fS  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

attractive.  Probably  Francois  would 
seriously  object.  He  hesitated.  I  urged 
that  I  might  be  able — as  a  compatriot — to 
get  information  from  the  prisoner  which 
she  would  withhold  from  him.  "Was  no 
one  admitted  to  her  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ye-es,"  he  said  slowly — ^*^  ye-es,one  or 
two  people,  with  an  order.  It  is  not 
altogether  forbidden." 

"  Could  you  take  me  ?  " 

''  I  could ;  but " 

"  Let  us  go  at  once,  then.  The  more 
you  have  found  out  before  the  London 
detectives  come,  the  more  creditable  to 
you." 

Well,  he  allowedhimself  to  be  persuaded, 
and  we  started.  A  fiacre  took  us  to  a 
gloomy  house  in  a  narrow  street.  I  have 
ivyfgotten  the  name  of  the  street,  but  the 
back  part  of  the  house  looked  out  on,  and 
was  protected  by,  the  prison.  It  was  an 
ill-lighted,  melancholy  place,  and  at  that 
early  hour — half-past  jcight — there  were 
already  few  passers-by,  and  many  closed 


would 

I  urged 

triot — to 

;r  which 

'Was  no 

iSfOne  or 
t  is  not 


'he  more 

London 

itable  to 

u^suaded, 

us  to  a 

I  have 

but  the 

on,  and 

was  an 

at  that 

re   were 

closed 


r//E  BLA^K-BOX  MURDER.  59 

shutters.  We  drove  up  to  a  heavy  door, 
with  a  bright  gas  lamp  over  it,  and  Mon- 
sieur Frangois  rang  the  bell.  It  was 
answered  immediately  by  the  mistress  of 
the  house,  who  led  us  into  a  sort  of  parlor. 
She  was  a  big,  plump,  greasy-looking 
woman,  with  a  loud  voice,  and  black  ring- 
lets. Monsieur  Dubert  called  her  Madame 
Bassequin.  The  parlor  was  an  uninviting 
apartment,  with  green  velvet  furniture,  and 
two  vases  of  imitation  flowers  under  glass 
shades.  It  had  two  gas  lights,  one  without 
a  globe. 

The  commissaire  left  after  a  few  whis- 
pered words  of  introduction.  Madame 
Bassequin  went  into  an  adjoining  room, 
informing  me,  as  she  went,  that  it  was  "pour 
privenir  as  danies" 

I  could  hear  voices  in  this  back  rorn,, 
which  communicated  with  the  one  I  was  in 
by  folding  doors — evidently  arranged  so  as 
to  facilitate  careful  supervision  of  the  guests 
madame  so  kindly  received  at  times.  One 
of  tlie  voices  was  Miss  Simpkinson's ;  the 


§9  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Other  was  a  man's — full,  pleasant,  sympa- 
thetic— an  English  voice.  They  were 
speaking  English.  This  rather  disconcerted 
me.  I  had  hoped  to  be  alone  in  the  fields 
Miss  Simpkinson  had  an  Englishman  with 
her.     Who  could  that  Englishman  be  } 

I  had  sent  in  my  card  after  penciling  on 
it,- 

"  A  compatriot  who  believes  he  can  be 
of  great  service." 

I  had  perhaps  not  much  right  to  hazard 
this  supposition,  but  one  pretext  was  as 
well  as  another.  And  I  was  of  service 
after  all,  in  the  end,  so  it  was  a  good  thing, 
notwithstanding,  that  Dubert  allowed  me 
to  go. 

The  voices  in  the  next  room  were  dis- 
cussing the  propriety  of  admitting  me. 
"  Let  me  see  him,"  I  heard  the  man  say, 
and  I  was  glad  to  hear  the  woman  reply 
with  firmness,  "We  may  as  well  receive 
him  together."  I  pressed  close  to  the 
folding  doors  to  hear  more,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment the  mistress  of  the  mansion  returned. 


f -^  ■  w-x^eaif^ ' 


sympa- 
ey  were 
oncerted 
the  field, 
nan  with 
I  be? 
ciling  on 

s  can  be 

o  hazard 

was  as 

service 

xi  thing, 

wed  me 

irere  dis- 
ing  me. 
lan  say, 
in  reply 
receive 
to  the 
hat  mo- 
etumed. 


-  ./■ 


•  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER,  6| 

With  one  bound  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  but  not  quickly  enough.  Madame 
Basscquin  arched  her  eyebrows  in  a  know- 
ing manner,  and  smiled  an  evil' little  smile. 
"  I  see  you  are  of  the  metier,"  she  said ; 
"  it  is  no  use  for  me.  They  always  speak 
English.  I  have  demanded  a  man  who 
understands  the  language,  but  he  will  be 
gone  before  he  comes."  With  this  last 
enigmatical  sentence  madame  seemed  well 
pleased.  She  repeated  it  to  herself  as  we 
walked  down  the  passage.  Then  she 
opened  the  door,  and  ushered  me  in. 

The  room  was  a  fair-sized  one,  but  un- 
comfortably furnished  and  dirty-looking. 
It  cost  the  occupants,  as  L6on  subsequently 
informed  me,  twenty-five  francs  per  diem, 
and  really,  I  think,  for  that  price  the  anti- 
macassars might  have  been  washed.  There 
were  three  arms  to  the  chandelier  in  this 
apartment  (for  gas  was  a  handsome  extra), 
so  that  every  stain  and  cobweb  seemed  to 
stand  out  in  the  brilliant  light ;  and  there 
was  a  big  fire  in  the  French  grate,  built  up 


6i  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

to  consume  the  largest  possible  quantity  of 
wood.  The  room  was  very  hot  in  conse- 
quence. 

Miss  Orr-Simpkinson  sat  on  an  old  horse- 
hair sofa  in  the  far  comer,  between  the 
windows  and  the  fireplace,  and  a  gentleman 
f  iood  by  her  side.  The  gas-lamps  shone 
full  in  their  faces.  They  were  looking 
towards  me  with  some  surprise. 

I,  on  my  side,  took  them  in  at  a  glance. 
At  least  I  thought  I  did  so.  I  liked  the 
look  of  Miss  Simpkinson  all  the  more,  now 
that  I  could  examine  her  at  my  ease.  She 
was  still  dressed  in  her  dark,  close-fitting 
traveling  dress.  Their  luggage  had  been 
sequestrated,  and  the  police  only  allowed 
her  to  have  the  most  indispensable  articles. 
But  she  looked  neat,  and  compact,  and 
energetic  in  the  simple  attire,  with  her 
beautiful  black  hair  coiled  closely  round  her 
head.  She  had  great,  dark,  expressive 
eyes,  which  looked  at  you  with  a  straight, 
strong  lool'-,  and  atoned  for  the  irregularity 
of  her  features.  She  was  not  by  any  means 


OER. 

le  quantity  of 
hot  in  conse- 

an  Old  horse- 
between  the 
'.  a  gentleman 
lamps  shone 
vere  looking 

at  a  glance. 
I  liked  the 
le  more,  now 
y  ease.  She 
,  close-fitting 
ge  had  been 
only  allowed 
able  articles, 
ompact,  and 
re,  with  her 
;ly  round  her 
,  expressive 
h  a  straight, 
5  irregularity 
ly  any  means 


THE  MLACK'BOX  MURDER,  ej 

handsome,  strictly  speaking,  but  she  was  as 
handsome  as  a  commanding  figure  and  fine 
eyes  must  always  make  a  woman.  I  said 
to  myself  once  more;  I  don't  believe  she's 
the  kind  of  woman  to  commit  a  murder ; 
but  she's  the  kind  of  woman  who  would 
kill  herself  to  defend  the  murdej-er— if  she 
loved  him. 

If  I  liked  the  look  of  Miss  Simpkinson,  I 
felt  still  more  attracted,  I  must  confess,  by 
the  gentleman  who  stood  at  her  side.  He 
wore  the  dress  of  a  clergyman  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church,  and  it  greatly  became  him. 
He  was  a  tall,  slenderly-built  man,  with  a 
young,  close-shaven,  fresh-colored  face,  a 
head  of  yellow  hair,  cropped  short,  and 
bright,  honest,  blue  eyes,  that  had  a  child- 
like candor  in  them.  He  rested  his  hand 
on  the  back  of  Miss  Simpkinson's  sofa,  and 
I  was  glad  to  find  her  in  such  agreeable 
company,  and  so  well  protected. 

"  Lovers,"  I  said  to  myself,   "  no  doubt. 
It  must  be  her  brother  she's  shielding." 
I  must  say,  in  my  own  self-defence,  that 


64  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

I  was  angry  with  myself  at  the  time  for  the 
obstinacy  with  which  I  stuck  to  my  precon- 
ceived assumptions,  in  spite  of  conflicting 
appearances. 

We  were  alone.  I  had  motioned  Ma- 
dame Bassequin  away.  Miss  Simpkinson 
began  speaking,  with  a  self-possession  re- 
markable in  one  so  young.  She  cannot  have 
been  more  than  twenty,  and  her  compa- 
nion, I  should  say,  may  have  been  twenty- 
three. 

"  May  I  know,"  said  Miss  Simpkinson, 
"what  is  the  object  of  this  visit,  Mr."— 
she  looked  at  the  card  I  had  sent  in — 
*•  Spence  ?  " 

She  turned  her  fine  eyes  to  me  interro- 
gatively. 

"  Certainly,  madame,"  I  said,  not  without 
a  little  awkwardness,  "  My  name  is  Spence, 

of  ■ 's  private  Inquiry  Office,  as  you 

can  see  by  the  card.  I  happened  to  be 
present  yesterday  at— at  the  station.  I 
thought  that,  perhaps,  under  the  circum- 
stances, you   might  be  requiring  such  ser- 


e  for  the 

precon- 

>nflicting 

led  Ma- 
ipkinson 
ssion  re- 
not  have 
compa- 
twenty- 

kpkinson, 
,  Mr."— 
ent  in — 

interro- 

-without 
Spence, 

as  you 
d  to  be 
tion.     I 

circum- 
uch  ser- 


THE  BLACX-BOX  MURDER.  $% 

vices  as  our  office  is  in  the  habit  of  render- 
ing. I  speak  French  fluently,  and  am 
acquainted  with  some  of  the  authorities 
engaged  in  this  investigation." 

Miss  Simpkinson  did  not  answer.  The 
clergyman  began  speaking  for  her.  He 
had  a  musical  voice  and  a  pleasant  manner, 
and  I  liked  him  all  the  more. 

"  We  may  find  your  services  valuable," 
he  said.  "  At  the  present  moment,  in  this 
terrible  sorrow  and  confusion,  we  hardly 
know  what  to  do  or  think.  We  can  give 
no  explanation  of  what  has  happened.  If 
you  can  furnish  us  with  one,  we  shall  owe 
you  a  debt  beyond  all  repayment." 

"  May  I  know,"  I  said,  "  in  how  far  you, 
sir,  are  interested  or  concerned  in  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"Certainly,"  he  replied.  "I  am  Mr. 
Harvey, — ^the  Rev.  Mr.  Harvey, — and  I  am 
engaged  to  be  married  to  this  young  lady, 
Miss  Orr-Simpkinson." 

Mr.  Harvey!  I  looked  at  the  honest 
English  gentleman  before  me,  and  felt  that 


^ 


66 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER 


my  cardboard  edifice  was  crumbling  to  the 
ground. 

"I  think,  Edith,"  said  Mr.  Harvey, 
turning  to  his  engaged,  "  that  perhaps  the 
wisest  thing  we  can  do  is  to  take  this 
gentleman  into  our  confidence,  whilst  await- 
ing further  advice." 

"  Yes,  Austin,"  said  Miss  Simpkinson. 

Austin  Harvey !  This,  then,  was  the  P. 
H.  of  all  my  wonderful  combinations! 
Austin  is  a  very  pietty  name.  I  called 
myself  "fool,"  and  "blockhead,"  under 
my  breath ;  and,  I  believe,  could  I  have 
done  so  with  decency,  I  should  have  got 
up  and  left  the  house  and  the  case  at  that 
moment.  At  any  rate,  I  must  start  on  a 
fresh  track. 

"  The  charge  against  Miss  Simpkinson 
and  her  mother  is  a  preposterous  one," 
continued  Mr.  Harvey,  addressing  himself 
to  me,  "  and  yet  we  must  admit  that  we 
are  the  victims  of  most  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances. When  I  was  telegraphed  for 
last  night,  I  did  not  know  what  to  expect. 


mw^iA 


itti 


ing  to  the 

Harvey, 
rhaps  the 
take  this 
iilst  await- 

kinson. 
iras  the  P. 
binationsi 
I  called 
1,"  under 
lid  I  have 
have  got 
se  at  that 
tart  on  a 

mpkinson 
3US  one," 
ig  himself 
t  that  we 
inary  cir- 
aphed  for 
3  expect. 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  6; 

I  certainly  had  not  expected  this.  And 
now  I  know  neither  what  to  expect  nor 
what  to  believe." 

•*  The  ladies  have  been  arrested,"  I  said, 
"  with  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  corpse 
in  their  possession.  That  corpse  was  hid- 
den in  a  black  box.  The  first  question  is, 
*  Was  the  box  Miss  Simpkinson's  ? '  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Simpkinson  quickly — 
too  quickly,  X  thought. 

"  My  dear  Edith—"  began  the  gentle- 
man. 

She  stopped  him  with  an  imperious  ges- 
ture. 

"I  tell  you  the  box  is  mine,  Austin. 
Ask  Susan.  It  is  not  the  slightest  use  youi 
reopening  the  discussion.  Whose  could  it 
be  else?" 

"Whose,  indeed?"  said  Mr.  Harvey, 
with  an  amusingly  puzzled  look. 

"  The  second  question  then  is,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  *  Who  is  the  murdered  person  ? ' 
Up  till  now  the  corpse  has  not  been  iden- 
tified." 


It 


\ 


<|  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

*'  That  question  I  can  answer,"  said  Mr, 
Harvey,  a  sad  look  overshadowing  his 
pleasant  face.  "  I  wish  I  could  not.  Miss 
Simpkinson  could  have  answered  it  also, 
and  I  think,  was  unwise  in  not  at  once 
giving  the  French  authorities  all  desired 
information.  Yes,  Edith,  that  is  another 
subject  on  which  I  must  regretfully  continue 
to  differ  with  you." 

•♦  But  who  w  it  ?  "  I  cried  impatiently. 

"  From  what  Miss  Simpkinson  tells  me, 
there  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt  that  the 
body  is  that  of  an  aunt  of  mine,"  answered 
the  clergyman,  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  so  as  the  better  to  conceal  his  emotion ; 
*•  and,  painful  as  the  subject  naturally  is,  I 
shall  tell  the  police  whatsoever  they  have  a 
right  to  know." 

Miss  Simpkinson  rose  up  and  came  for- 
ward. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake ! "  she  cried  passion- 
ately, '*  have  mercy  on  us  all  and  hold  your 
peace." 


said  Mr. 
vingf  his 
iot.  Miss 
1  it  also, 

at  once 

1  desired 

i  another 

continue 

tiently. 
tells  me, 
t  that  the 
answered 
down  the 
emotion ; 
"ally  is,  I 
!:y  have  a 

;ame  for- 

passion- 
lold  your 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  69 

''  Edith,"  said  the .  young  clergyman, 
very  softly  and  tenderly,  as  he  drew  her 
arm  through  his,  "  you  are  wrong,  dearest, 
you  are  wrong.  There  are  moments  in  our 
lives  when  we  hesitate,  but  usually  we  know 
only  too  clearly  where  the  path  of  duty  lies. 
I  must  speak,  dearest.  And  besides,  be 
sure  of  thiS;  if  I  did  not,  others  would." 

He  looked  towards  me. 

''  How  long  do  you  calculate  the  French 
police  will  take  to  find  out  without  my 
help  ?  "  he  said. 

"They  know  the  old  lady's  initials,"  I 
answered,  "and  her  probable  place  of 
abode,  and  the  number  and  maker  of  her 
watch,  and  they  have  her  clothes  and  purse 
—three  days,  I  should  say." 

"  I  can  spare  them  the  delay.  My 
aunt's  name  was  Miss  Elizabeth  Raynell. 
She  was  unmarried,  and  resided  at  No.  13 
Upper  Norton  Crescent,  Haverstock  Hill. 
She  had  recently  been  staying  at  Southend 
for  the  benefit  of  her  health,  and  it  must 


"  I' 


\% 


Ji 


— : — IJMBJLM  ■ 

|0  rffE  BLA  CAT-BOX  MURDER. 

have  been  there" — ^his  voice  falteied 
slightly — "  that  she  met  her  death." 

Miss  Simpkinson  dropped  back  on  the 
sofa,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

**  I  think  you  are  right,  sir,"  I  remarked, 
"  if  you  will  excuse  my  saying  so,  to  help 
the  police  as  much  as  is  in  your  power.  It 
is  no  use  keeping  back  facts  which  must 
come  to  light  sooner  or  later,  and  such 
action  can  only  make  worse  what  is  already 
— excuse  my  saying  so — a  very  awkward 
predicament." 

I  was  angry  with  Miss  Simpkinson  for 
her  unreasonable  behavior. 

She  took  her  hands  from  her  face. 

*'  I  know  it,"  she  said. 

"  The  murder  was  committed  at  South- 
end,"  I  went  on  ;  "I  knew  that  before  I 
came  here.    Why  was  it  committed  ?  " 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  The  Wq 
lovers  looked  uneasily  at  each  other. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  question  us  ?* 
said  Miss  Simpkinson  fiercely. 

I  rose  at  once. 


"^Vfi 


^Tff^?^ 


falteied 

M 

>• 

k  on  the 
s. 

^marked, 
1,  to  help 
wer.  It 
ich  must 
nd  such 
I  already 
iwkward 

nson  for 

:e. 

t  South- 

>efore  I 

d?" 

'he  tn'o 

r. 

>n  us?" 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  71 

**  None,"  I  replied  J  "  nor  any  wish  to  do 
so.  Only  I  thought  you  might  be  wishing 
to  employ  me.  There's  murder,  Miss,  and 
some  one'll  have  to  be  punished  for  it.  I'd 
as  Hef  as  any  one  it  shouldn't  be  you." 

"  Punished ! "  cried  the  clergyman— 
*'  murder—great  heavens,  Edith  ! " 

We  stood  gazing  at  each  other,  all  three 
— he  distressed,  she  defiant,  I  doubtful. 

"  Edith,  Edith,"  he  repeated,  "  you  are 
beside  yourself,  poor  dariing.  Ask  what 
you  will,  sir,  and  help  us  what  you  can. 
We  must  let  our  own  consciences  be  judges 
in  how  far  we  can  answer.  But  we  cannot 
tell  you  who  did  the  murder,  for  we  do  not 
know,  and  we  dare  not  tell  you  why  we 
think  it  may  perhaps  have  been  done." 

"  Did  you  live  with  your  aunt  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  I  am  curate  of 
St.  Mary  the  Virgin's,  at  Southend.  It 
was  chiefly  on  account  of  my  living  there 
that  my  aunt  chose  Southend,  when  her 
doctors  recommended  sea  air." 


, 


i    V 


ft  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

**  Did  she  live  alone  ?  " 

**  Yes,  with  two  servants — an  old  woman 
and  a  young  girl." 

"  They  were  not  with  her  at  the  time  ?  * 

"  No ;  she  had  left  them  in  London. 
She  was  staying  in  lodgings." 

"And  what  was  her  address  at  South- 
end?" 

"  Do  not  tell  him,"  interposed  Miss 
Simpkinson. 

*'  My  dear  Edith !  No.  1 7  Marine 
Parade." 

I  noted  the  address  down  in  my  pocket- 
book.  Miss  Simpkinson  watched  me 
uneasily.     I  could  not  understand  her. 

"  Do  you  want  the  guilty  person  to  be 
found  out,  ma'am  ?  "  I  asked. 

'*  No,"  she  said. 

**  Do  you  want  to  take  his~or  her — 
place  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  I  saw  that  I  should 
not  get  much  out  of  her.  A  sudden  idea 
struck  me.  I  resolved,  before  I  left,  to 
find  out  about  the  box. 


!d  woman 


e  time  ?  " 
London. 

It  South- 

led   Miss 

Marine 

•f  pocket- 
hed    me 
her. 
on  to  be 

or  her — 

:  I  should 
den  idea 
\  left,  to 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  73 

"  Excuse  my  asking,"  I  said  ;  "  you  live 
in  Greenwich,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"No,"  she  replied  shortly;  "Tooting. 
The  police  have  my  address." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said,  «  I  thought 
it  was  Greenwich.  Greenwich  is  a  very 
pretty  place,  and  pleasant  to  live  in." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  Miss  Simpkinson. 
"  I  do  not  know.  I  have  never  been 
there." 

That  was  all  I  wanted  to  know.  I  had 
not  expected  to  gain  the  information  so 
easily. 

"  At  any  rate,"  I  went  on,  "the  box  with 
the  body  left  Charing  Cross  yesterday 
morning.  I  do  not  deny  that  the  box  is 
yours,  as  you  recognize  it.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  placed  the  body  of  the 
murdered  woman  in  it  ?  " 

She  grew  white  at  last.— to  the  very 
lips, — but  she  spoke  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  No,"  she  answered ;  "  I  do  not  say 
that.** 


fl  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

"  Then  do  you  mean  to  declare  that  you 
were  present  when  another  person  did  so  ?  " 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Then,  if  the  box  is  yours,  some  one_^ 
must  have  had  access  to  it  without  your 
knowledge." 

"  No.  Since  I  bought  the  box,  only 
four  or  five  days  ago,  it  has  always  stood 
in  my  room.  My  maid  packed  it  yester- 
day morning.     Ask  her." 

I  said  to  myself,  "  She  is  prevaricating. 
She  is  telling  only  half  the  truth.  If  her 
maid  packed  the  box,  it  must  have  been 
yesterday  morning,  as  she  says,  but  then 
it  was  in  the  London  hotel,  for  at  South- 
end the  maid  was  not  with  her.  It  is  im- 
possible to  find  out,  as  yet,  which  is  the 
truth  and  which  is  not.  But  her  very 
falsehood  will  betray  her." 

"  You  do  not  believe  me  ?  "  she  said. 
"  No  r^Ptlor.  Bnt  I  will  swear  that  my 
box  n»;ver  left  my  room.  How  the  body 
of  poor  Miss  Raynell  was  ever  placed  in  it, 
and  by  whom,  the  police  must  find  out." 


75 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 

She  cast  a  defiant  look  at  her  lover. 

"  They  will  find  out,"  I  said  quietly. 

My  presence  there  was  becoming  useless, 
and  even  ridiculous.  I  walked  towards 
the  door. 

"  That  box  is  not  your  box,  Miss  Simp- 
kinson,"  I  saM,  as  I  passed  out. 


. 

5f« 

THE  BLACK-BOX  AfURDEX. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  "twin-box"  theory. 


That  parting  thrust  was,  perhaps,  a  stupid 
and  an  unkind  one,  but  it  was  a  bit  of 
revenge  for  all  the  young  lady's  contrari- 
ness. Under  a  charge  of  murder — for- 
sooth !  A  girl  of  twenty,  belonging  to 
genteel  society,  and  as  cool  as  a  cucumber, 
and  as  cross  as  a  Good-Friday  bun.  It 
was  too  bad.  I  could  forgive  her  as  long 
as  I  thought  that  some  love  affair  might  be 
mixed  up  in  the  business ;  but  now  even 
that  extenuation  seemed  altogether  out  of 
the  question.  I  had  no  patience  with  her. 
She  deserves  to  be  hanged,  I  sr,id  to  my- 
self.    Not  that  I  meant  it. 

I  had  made  quite  sure  about  the  box 
before  I  spoke.  The  black  box,  at  present 
at  the  French  police-station,  had  traveled 


,  a  stupid 
a  bit  of 
contrari- 
der — for- 
nging  to 
ucumber, 
bun.     It 
r  as  long 
might  be 
low  even 
er  out  of 
with  her. 
to  my- 
th e  box 
present 
traveled 


.A. 


TffE  BLACK  .:0X  MURDER.  77 

from  Greenwich  to  Southend— of  that  there 
could  be  no  doubt ;  the  label  I  had  dis- 
covered under  the  Pans  one  proved  it. 
And  if  Miss  Simpkinson  had  never  been 
at  Greenwich,  and  if  the  box,  bought  only 
four  or  five  days  ago,  had  never  left  Miss 
Simpkinson's  room,  then  Mi^s  Simpkinson's 
box  could  noi  be  the  Paris  one.  Miss 
Simpkinson  had  betrayed  this  to  me  her- 
self. 

But  the  maid  had  identified  it.  For  this 
there  could  only  be  one  explanation. 
There  must  be  two  boxes  exactly  similar, 
one  belonging  to  Miss  Simpkinson,  one  the 
property  of  a  per&on  as  yet  unknown,  and 
these  two  boxes  must  have  been  inter- 
changed. But  if  so.  Miss  Simpkinson 
must  have  been  privy  to  the  transaction. 
Her  manner  showed  that  she  knew  about 
the  oec^n  1  box  and  its  owner,  and  it  led 
one  to  infer  that  she  knew  about  its  con- 
te:^s  before  the  box  was  opened. 

If  so,  this  girl  was  the  daring  accomplice 
of  a  dangerous  criminal. 


I 


r 


Umtm 


78 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


I  could  not  believe  it  of  the  woman  who 
had  gained  the  afifections  of  so  charming 
and  straightforward  a  man  as  Austin 
Harvey.  But  I  could  only  repeat  that  she 
certainly  was  a  liar,  and  she  might  be  a 
good  deal  more;  and  I  pitied  the  young 
clergyman  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

I  could  now  account  for  the  difficulty 
about  the  keys.  After  careful  thought,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  Miss  Simpkin- 
son  had  not  known  about  the  exchange  of 
boxes  till  the  examination  took  place  at 
the  custom-house.  Her  anxiety  not  lo 
have  the  cord  unfastened  I  explained  away 
as  only  natural ;  the  expression  "  likely  to 
create  suspicion,"  I  considered  to  have 
been  used  in  a  general  way — *'  unwar- 
ranted suspicion  "  being  meant.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  the  box  was  opened,  she 
must,  undoubtedly,  have  at  once  seized 
the  situation,  and  understood  its  import. 
At  that  moment  she  must  have  recognized 
tlie  guilty  person,  and  resolved  to  shield 


>man  who 
charming 
s  Austin 
t  that  she 
ight  be  a 
le  young 
r  heart. 

difficulty 
hought,  I 
Simpkin- 
:hange  of 

place  at 
y  not  \o 
led  away 
'  likely  to 

to  have 
•"  unwar- 

On  the 
^ned, she 
e  seized 
i  import, 
cognized 
to  shield 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  y, 

him ;  and  most  probably  she  must  have 
understood  the  method  of  the  crime. 

The  murder  had  been   committed   by 
some  near  connection  of  the  old  lady's  and 
of  Mr.  Harvey's-probably  by  a  relation. 
Both    the    young    clergyman    and    Miss 
Simpkinson  were  anxious  to  shield  him  - 
he  as  far  as  conscience  and  honor  would 
allow,  she  a  good  deal  further.     The  differ- 
ence lay  in  their    respective  characters. 
What  she  was  doing  she  was  doubtless 
doing  for  her  lover's  sake. 

I  was  puzzled  still,  but  not  ill-content. 
My  visit  had  been  more  useful  to  me  than 
I  could  have  expected.  It  was  irregular. 
If  you  like,  and  venturesome.  So  much 
the  better  in  my  profession.  The  diffi- 
culty about  the  keys  was  now  explained.- 
The  boxes  were  similar,  supplied  by  the 
same  firm.     The  locks  were  different. 

The  absence  of  the  address-label  would 
thus  also  be  accounted  for. 
But  the  absence  of  a  label  indicating  the 


80  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

journey  from  Southend  to  London  remained 
unexplained. 

The  box  had  been  at  Southend.  It  had 
arrived  there  from  Greenwich.  Miss  Simp- 
kinson's  box  had  also  been  at  Southend. 
It  had  arrived  there  probably  from  Tooting, 
or  from  the  makers.  When  had  they  been 
exchanged  ?  And  where  ?  How  had  the 
box  with  the  corpse  come  up  to  Charing 
Cross?  If  Miss  Raynell  had  been  mur- 
dered at  Southend  the  night  before  the 
Simpkinsons  started  for  the  Continent,  and 
if  the  Simpkinsons  had  spent  that  night  at 
a  London  hotel,  how  could  Miss  Simpkin- 
son  be  implicated  in  the  crime  ? 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  next  was  to 
find  out  the  original  possessor  of  the  Paris 
black  box. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  UUROBM, 


It  had 
Iss  Simp- 
louthend. 
Tooting, 
hey  been 
r  had  the 
Charing 
^n  mur- 
ifore  the 
lent,  and 
:  night  at 
Simpkin- 

ct  was  to 
the  Paris 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Austin's  visit. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  room  next  morning, 
writing  out  my  report  for  my  employers, 
when  Mr.  Harvey  was  annoimced.  He 
looked  troubled  and  careworn,  as  if  after  a 
sleepless  night,  and  no  wonder.  We  came 
to  business  at  once. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  your  visit 
last  night,"  he  said  frankly,  "  and  I  feel  that 
we  owe  you  an  apology.  Miss  Simpkiti- 
son's  manner  must  seem  strange  to  you, 
and  even  incomprehensible." 
He  hesitated. 

"  It  does  not  seem  so  strange  to  me  as 
you  might  think,"  I  answered  quietly ;  «  I 
am  accustomed,  you  must  remember,  to 
similar  investigations." 


mm 


^  TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

He  looked  a  little  disconcerted,  but  re- 
covered himself  immediately. 

«  You  came  away,  then,"  he  said,  "  with 
a  definite  impression.  Would  it  be  asking 
too  much  to  inquire  of  you  what  that 
impression  is  ?  " 

«  It  is  asking  a  good  deal,"  I  said,  "  and, 
in  fact,  it  is  hardly  fair ;  for  you  summon 
me  to  surrender  what  little  advantage  I 
may  have  gained,  and  you  give  me  nothing 
in  return." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Mr.  Harvey. 
"  Well,  if  you  communicate  your  impression 
to  me,  I  will  undertake  honestly  to  tell  you 
whether  it  is  a  correct  one." 

«  Which  is  the  correct  one  ?  " 

«0h,  no,"  he  said  quickly;  "whether 
yours  is  the  correct  one.    Yes,  or  no  ?  " 

He  looked  straight  into  my  eyes  with  an 
honest,  appealing  smile.  I  have  never  met 
a  man  with  a  more  winning  manner,  and  I 
felt  my  interest  in  Miss  Simpkinson  decreas- 
ing the  more  I  was  taken  with  sympathy 
for  her  unfortunate  lover. 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER. 


t3 


but  f  e- 

,,  "  with 
i  asking 
lat  that 

I, "  and, 

summon 

ntage  I 

nothing 

Harvey. 

ipression 

tell  you 


•*  To  my  mind,  there  remains  no  doubt," 
I  said  slowly,  "  that  there  are  two  similar 
black  boxes,  and  that  both  Miss  Simpkin- 
son  and  yourself  are  perfectly  well  aware 
that  the  one  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
Paris  police  is  not  hers.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  you  both  know  who  is  the  owner 
of  this  box  which  contained  the  corpse,  and 
your  one  fear  is  that  he  should  prove  to  be 
the  murderer." 

Austin  Harvey  flushed  up.  I  had  spoken 
carefully,  watching  him  all  the  time.  In 
the  hot  changes  on  his  fresh,  young  face,  I 
read  the  corroboration  of  my  theory.  I 
was  right  so  far. 

"  You  know  a  good  deal,"  he  said,  with 
a  catch  in  his  usually  clear  voice. 

"  Is  my  supposition  not  correct  ? " 

'*  It  is  absolutely  correct." 

A  few  moments  of  silence  followed.  Mr. 
Harvey  sat  back  in  his  chair,  gazing^  into 
his  clerical  wide-awake.  I  watched  him 
with  a  question  hovering  on  my  lips.     He 


t4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

was  honest,  ingenuous,  anxious  to  do  rJght 
Why  not  chance  it  ? 

"  Who  is  the  owner  of  the  black  box  ?  " 
I  said  suddenly. 

I  repented  of  my  indiscretion  imme. 
diately.  The  tall  figure  began  to  tremble 
from  head  to  foot.  The  face  twitched 
nervously,  and  the  eyes  grew  hazy.  He 
mastered  himself  with  a  visible  effort. 

"Shall  I  speak  ?  "  he  said  to  himself. 

I  felt  the  words  more  than  I  heard 
them. 

He  got  up  and  went  to  the  window,  and 
stood  looking  out  on  the  busy  boulevard. 
I  understood,  weeks  afterwards,  what 
thoughts  must  have  agitated  him  at  that 
moment.  At  last  he  spoke,  in  a  toneless 
voice. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Duty  cannot  require 
me  to  answer  that  question.  I  am  doing 
right  to  refuse." 

He  came  back  to  me  and  assumed  a  more 
natural  manner. 


_^ 


1 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


«S 


0  rght 
:box?" 

1  imme- 
tremble 
witched 
ly.  He 
rt. 
iself. 

I    heard 

low,  and 

tulevard. 

what 

at  that 

toneless 

require 
m  doing 

1  a  more 


*'  You  must  distinguish,"  he  said, "  neither 
Miss  Simpkinson  nor  I  can  be  said  to  know 
anything  with  regard  to  the  murder.  We 
both  only  suspect.  If  I  knew,  I  should 
consider  it  my  duty  to  give  all  possible 
information  to  the  Paris  police  at  whatever 
cost."  He  repeated  these  words  mourn- 
fully. "  But  we  only  suspect ;  and  the  one 
prayer  and  expectation  of  our  hearts  is  that 
our  suspicion  may  prove  to  be  false.  Mat- 
ters standing  thus,  I  have  resolved  to  tell 
all  I  know  and  have  known,  but  not  all  I 
have  thought  or  still  think.  1  believe  it  is 
a  distinction  I  can  fully  reconcile  with  my 
conscience ;  for  it  must  be  my  duty  in  no 
way  to  retard  the  march  of  justice  ;  but  it 
is  no  less  my  duty  in  this  case  not  know- 
ingly to  accelerate  it,  especially  where — for 
all  I  know— justice  may  be  wandering 
astray." 

•'  Miss  Simpkinson,"  I  said,  "  goes  far- 
ther." 

•*  Miss  Simpkinson  must  be  judge  of  her 
own  actions  in  the  matter,"  answered  Mr. 


M  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Harvey  ;  "  and  we  must  make  full  allow- 
ance for  the  utter  confusion  of  mind  into 
which  such  events  as  those  of  the  last 
twenty-four  hours  would  naturally  have 
thrown  any  young  lady.  She  is  not  able, 
as  yet,  to  think  or  speak  coherendy." 

"  You  must  permit  n?e  to  differ  from  you 
there,"  said  I ;  "  she  is  quite  able,  more  or 
less  coherently,  to  delude  the  authorities  by 
incorrect  statements,  and  so  the  French 
police  have  found.  If  you  are  permitted 
to  see  her  again,  you  had  better  advise  her 
to  be  careful." 

*'  You  do  not  mean  to  imply,"  cried  the 
clergyman,  "  that  Miss  Simpkinson  is  in 
danger  of  any  serious  annoyance  from  the 
police  .-* " 

"  She  is  in  danger  of  a  good  deal  more," 
I  said  grimly. 

"Good  heavens,  it  is  maddening!"  ex- 
claimed Austin  Harvey.  "Heaven  help 
us,  what  are  we  to  do  }  I  cannot  believe," 
he  went  on,  "that  this  whole  miserable 
business  will  injure  Miss  Simpkinson   in 


.A— 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER.  g; 

any  way.  The  idea  is  agony  to  me.  I 
assure  you,  by  all  I  hold  most  sacred,  she 
is  utterly  innocent." 

*'  I  do  not  deny  it,"  I  replied  ;  "  but,  if 
so,  she  is  rapidly  making  an  accomplice  of 
herself,  and  accomplices  are  not  innocent." 

Poor  fellow  !  Till  now  he  had  kept  up 
fairly  well,  but  he  was  evidently  terribly 
cut  up  at  the  idea  of  any  harm  befalling  his 
sweetheart. 

"  What,"  he  said — "  what  would  you 
have  her  to  do  ?  " 

*'  Let  her  do  as  you  are  doing,"  I  an- 
swered roughly.  "  No  falsehoods,  no  sup- 
positions, and  plain  answers  where  a  plain 
answer  is  due." 

He  clasped  my  hand. 

"  That  is  right,"  he  said  earnestly.  *'  We 
will  pull  her  out  of  this.  I  will  go  to  her  at 
once  and  tell  her  what  you  say.  Nonsense ; 
they  must  admit  her  innocence  soon,  and 
you  must  help  me  to  prove  it.  It  is  for 
that  object  I  came  here.  I  wish  you  to 
investigate  this  case  on  my  behalf,  keeping 


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THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

an  eye  on  the  police.  You  must  find  out 
what  they  find  out — and  more,  if  you  can. 
\\'c  must  learn  who  did  the  deed.  You 
V.  ili  communicate  all  you  discover,  or  think 
}(>M  discover,  to  me,  and  I  only  hope  that 
your  investigations  will  give  my  suspicions 
\.\v.:  He." 

"  Do  I  understand,  sir,"  I  said, "  that  yo;i 
rctijii  me  professionally  in  this  case  ?  If 
t!u)!  is  so,  I  must  communicate  with  my 
cm[/ioyers." 

"  Do  so  without  loss  of  time." 

'•  1  am  not  free  at  this  moment,  but  any 
oiher  man  can  take  my  place  here.  In  a 
case  of  such  importance  as  this — "  I  bowed, 
Y-:  1  )ut  finishing  my  sentence.  Austin 
}•  '!  iy  took  up  his  hat.  He  fingered  it  a 
li        awkwardly. 

'-  riiere  is  one  more  thing  I  should  like 
t^  isk  you  before  leaving,"  he  said,  with 
sonio  hesitation  ;  "  I  am  a  poor^  man,  and 
perhaps  it  would  be  wiser  to  understand 
before  beginning " 


it  find  out 
"  you  can. 
ed.  You 
r,  or  think 
hope  that 
suspicions 

"  that  yo;i 

case  ?     If 

with  my 


:,  but  any 

:re.     In  a 

I  bowed, 

Austin 

gered  it  a 


hould  like 
said,  with 
man,  and 
nderstand 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER,  89 

"  The  terms,"   I  interrupted   promptly. 

(I  always  cut  this  subject  short.)  "Em- 
ployers will  forward  prospectus.  Will  be 
found  very  reasonable,  I  do  not  doubt,  sir,'' 
and  I  bowed  him  out. 

He  passed  on  to  the  landing,  and  I  fol- 
lowed him.     He  went  downstairs  very 
slowly,  like  a  man  in  deep  thought.     I 
stood  watching  him  at  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case.   At  a  turn  of  the  stairs  he  slackened 
his  pace  still  more,  and,  half  mechanically, 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  drew  a  white  pocket- 
handkerchief  out  of  his  breast-coat-pocket 
and  passed  it  softly  over  his  eyes.      As  he 
drew  this  handkerchief  from  his  overcoat, 
a  grey  envelope  came  with  it,  and  fell  to 
the  ground  with  a  faint  thud.     I  heard  the 
slight  noise  where  I  stood— a  dozen  steps 
higher  up,— but  the  clergyman   did  not 
seem  to  notice  it.     He  went  on  slowly 
descending  the  stairs. 

I  checked  a  first  impulse  to  call  after 
him,  and  held  my  breath.    A  letter !  Who 


90  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

knows  what  it  might  tell !  I  stood  watch 
ing — waiting. 

Mr.  Harvey  did  not  turn. 

I  covered  the  precious  grey  scrap  with 
my  eyes,  gloating  over  it  as  if  I  could 
attract  it  towards  me,  or  hide  it  from  sight. 
Supposing  he  were  to  miss  it .'' 

How  plain  it  showed  against  the  crimson 
hotel  carpet !  Supposing  some  one  were 
to  come  running  upstairs  and  call  out !  A 
waiter,  for  instance !  All  this  in  the  flash 
of  the  moment !  I  dared  not  move  to- 
wards it,  lest  the  movement  should  make 
him  turn  his  head. 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  breast-pocket, 
and  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost.  But  it  was 
only  to  arrange  his  handkerchief. 

He  turned  the  comer  into  the  vestibule, 
and  at  that  same  moment  I  was  down,  with 
my  hand  over  the  prize — like  a  vulture,  at 
one  fell  swoop. 

I  rushed  up  to  my  room  and  locked  my- 
self in.  I  laid  down  the  envelope  on  the 
table.     It  was  a  square  envelope,  of  grey- 


--_/- 


ood  watch 


scrap  with 
if  I  could 
from  sight. 

he  crimson 
one  were 

II  out !     A 

in  the  flash 
move  to- 

3uld  make 

ast-pocket, 
But  it  was 

• 

I  vestibule, 
down,  with 
vulture,  at 

ocked  my- 
)pe  on  the 
e,  of  grey- 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


91 


tinted  paper,  sent  by  post  from  Dover,  and 
addressed  to  the  Revd.  Austin  Harvey,  at 
the  Hotel  de  la  Paix,  Paris. 

Would  it  prove  to  be  an  empty  envelope, 
or  did  it  contain  the  letter  still  ? 

By  the  feel  of  the  thing,  it  was  not 
empty.  I  turned  it  round,  and,  with  trem- 
bling fingers,  touched  a  paper  inside.  This 
paper  would  put  me  on  the  right  track. 
I  had  somehow  believed  that  from  the 
first. 

I  drew  it  out  and  unfolded  it.  The  let- 
ter began,  "My  dear  Austin."  I  turned 
hastily  to  the  signature  over  the  page,  and 
read  «  Philip." 

I  had  barely  found  time  to  glance  over 
the  contents  when  an  impatient  knock  came 
to  my  door.  I  hurriedly  flung  the  letter 
into  a  drawer  and  locked  it.  Then  I  threw 
off  my  coat  as  a  suitable  pretext  for  having 
the  door  locked,  and  went  in  my  shirt- 
sleeves to  see  who  was  there. 

It  was  Mr.  Harvey  come  back.  He 
pushed  me  into  the  room  and  entered  it 


M 


9» 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


with  me,  before  I  knew  what  he  was  doing. 
His  look  and  manner  betrayed  extreme 
agitation.  "  I  dropped  a  letter  just  now," 
he  said  ;  "  I  must  have  it  back  again." 

*'  Well  ? "  I  said  quietly. 

"  I  must  have  it  back  again,  I  tell  you. 
I  am  convinced  I  dropped  it  on  the  stairs. 
You  were  standing  on  the  landing.  You 
must  have  seen  me  drop  it." 

"  I  sha'n't  tell  any  lies  about  it,"  I  said ; 
«  I  did." 

•'  And  you  have  got  it  ?  " 

« I  have." 

"  That's  all  right.  Then  let  me  have  it 
back,  immediately.  Sorry  to  have  troubled 
you." 

"  That's  a  different  story,"  I  said ;  "  I 
fear  I  can't  let  you  have  that  letter  back 
again,  Mr.  Harvey." 

"Can't  let  me  have  it  back  again? 
What  do  you  mean  ?     Why  jiot  ?  " 

"  I  must  reserve  it,  sir,  as  evidence." 

"  Nonsense;  you  have  no  right  to  touch 


;  was  doing, 
ed  extreme 
■  just  now," 
:  again." 

I,  I  tell  you. 
n  the  stairs, 
iding.     You 

:  it,"  I  said ; 


:  me  have  it 
ave  troubled 

I  said  ;  "  I 
t  letter  back 

)ack   again  ? 
lot  ? " 
vidence." 
ight  to  touch 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  9, 

it.     It  is  private  correspondence.     It  lies 
beyond  your  competence  altogether." 

"  I  have  not  yet  read  it,  sir ;  but  I  ha\'e 
seen  quite  enough  of  the  contents  to  know- 
that  it  is  of  the  very  greatest  importanc(^ 
If  I  am  to  act  for  you,  I  must  keep  thit 
letter,  and  if  I  am  not  to  act  for  you " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  must  hand  it  over  to  the  police." 

"In  any  case,  you  refuse  to  restore  it  lo 
me .?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  restore  it  to  you." 
In  another  moment  we  were  rolling  on 
the  floor  together.     The   clergyman  had 
made  a  rush  at  me  and  upset  me,  anrl  \x\ 
falling  I  had  brought  him  down  also.     I 
was  entirely  taken  by  surprise.     I  had  .loi; 
expected  anything  of  this  kind  from  a 
of  his  cloth  or  his  manner,   but  he   was 
evidently  desperate,  and  resolved  to  re.;,va 
possession  of  the  letter  by  fair  means  or 
foul. 

I   was  resolved  to    retain  it— by  foul 
means  or  fair. 


if 


f- 


94  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

*'  You  have  it  on  you,"  he  said,  between 
his  teeth,  "  and  I'll  throttle  you  to  get  it." 

We  rolled  together  on  the  floor,  kicking 
up  a  terrible  row  against  the  furniture.  I 
was  in  terror  lest  the  waiters  should  come 
running  up.  Fortunately  my  room  was  in 
a  back  wing,  and  the  struggle  only  lasted 
for  a  moment.  I  found  the  clergyman's 
strength  giving  out  much  quicker  than  I 
should  have  expected  from  a  man  of  his 
athletic  build.  After  the  first  fierce  on- 
slaught, he  seemed  to  have  no  staying 
power.  I  went  at  him  with  redoubled 
energy,  and  got  his  hands  away  from  my 
throat.  In  another  minute  I  was  up, 
breathless,  with  the  table  between  us. 

"  That's  failed,  sir,"  I  gasped.  "  Give  it 
up.  You  won't  get  the  letter.  We  shall 
have  the  waiters  up  in  another  minute. 
Better  make  yourself  scarce  before  they 
come." 

He  stood  by  the  door,  looking  unde- 
cided. 


!■_-.- 


lid,  between 
1  to  get  it." 
loor,  kicking 
furniture.  I 
should  come 
room  was  in 
;  only  lasted 
clergyman's 
icker  than  I 

man  of  his 
5t  fierce  on- 

no  staying 
li  redoubled 
ay  from  my 

I  was  up, 
reen  us. 
i.  "  Give  it 
r.  We  shall 
;her  minute, 
before  they 

aking  unde- 


THE  BLACK-POX  MURDER.  95 

"  With,  or  against  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Which 
will  you  have  }  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  stammered.  "  Wait 
till  I  write.  Don't  do  anything  till  I 
write." 

I  agreed  to  this,  and  he  went  out.  He 
was  barely  gone  when  a  waiter  came  hover- 
ing about  the  door,  knocking  and  looking 
very  anxious  for  some  further  information. 

"  I  have  been  moving  that  sofa  to  the 
window,"  I  said,  "  to  try  the  light.  But  I 
think  it  is  best  as  it  is." 


'  I 


■■M 


■Hi 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    LETTER. 


I  WENT  and  got  the  precious  letter  out,  and 
laid  it  on  the  table  before  me.  But  I 
locked  my  door  again  first,  lest  the  impe- 
tuous clergyman  should  take  it  into  his 
head  to  pounce  back  on  me  once  more.  I 
read  the  letter  through  most  carefully,  and 
then  I  read  it  through  again.  I  could  not 
realize  that  it  was  a  genuine  document, 
and  that  I  now  actually  found  myself  in 
possession  of  the  facts  it  contained.  It 
seemed  to  me  almost  as  if  I  must  be 
making  them  up. 

The  contents  of  this  remarkable  letter 
were  as  follow  : — 


"  My  dear  Austin, — I  am  desperate.  I  do  not 
know  what  to  do.  You  must  help  me.  Through 
some  mistake  or  other  of  the  porters,  my  box  must 


■■R. 


S> 


ter  out,  and 
me.  But  I 
t  the  impe- 
:  it  into  his 
ce  more.  I 
irefully,  and 

I  could  not 
;  document, 
d  myself  in 
ntained.     It 

I    must  be 

kable  letter 


ate.  I  do  not 
me.  Through 
;,  my  box  must 


T//E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  gj 

have  been  exchanged  with  Miss  Simpkinson's  when 
we  left   Charing  Cross   together  yesterday.      You 
know  they  are  similar,  and  the  luggage  was  all  mixed 
up  in  the  rush.     Austin,  she  may  not  open  my  box. 
If  she  does,  I  am  a  lost  man.     I  have  telegraphed  to 
you  at  Southend  ;  they  telegraphed  me  you  were  in 
Paris.     Why?     What  is  wrong  ?     I  do  not  know  her 
Paris   address.      Keep    her    from    my   trunk,    for 
Heaven's  sake.     S,:nd  it  back  to  me.     I  am  sending 
you  hers.     Let  me  have  it  instantly.     I  shall  wait 
for  it  at  the  same  place,  the  old  Nigger's.— Yours,  in 
the  greatest  anxiety, 

"  Philip. 

"  ■P-S.—Sf.wd  back  the  trunk  immediately.     She 
must  not  see  it.     Help  me." 

Here,  then,  was  full  corroboration  of  my 
theory,  which  Austin  Harvey  had  already 
pronounced  to  be  correct.     And  from  this 
information  it  would  appear  that  it  was  by 
accident  the  interchange  had  taken  place, 
not  as  the  result  of  any  fixed  design.     How 
strange  are  the  ways  of  Providence,  espe- 
cially with  regard  to  the  detection  of  crime. 
A  crowd  at  the  station,  a  little  confusion 
with  the  luggage,  a  custom-house  exami- 


N!«PfM*fW«M«>M||M 


9I  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

nation — that  is  all,  and  a  whole  carefully- 
built-up  plot  conies  crashing  down. 

Thus  I  ruminated  complacently,  thinking 
I  had  .now  explained  the  difficulty  and 
discovered  the  necessary  clue,  while,  in 
reality,  I  was  as  far  from  the  truth  as  ever, 
as  the  reader  will  see  for  himself,  if  he  lias 
the  patience  to  accompany  me  to  the  end 
of  this  extraordinary  story. 

The  name  of  the  man  to  whom  the  box 
belonged  was  "  Philip'^ 

I  took  from  my  pocket-book  the  scrap 
of  paper  on  which  I  had  drawn  the  fac- 
simile of  the  letters  "  P.  H."  which  I  had 
found  on  the  white  "'  Greenwich  to  South- 
end "  label. 

I  laid  it  down  on  the  table  next  to  the 
letter,  and  carefully  compared  the  P  of  the 
sienature  to  the  P  of  the  fac-simile. 

There  they  lay,  side  by  side. 


-c 


e  carefully- 
►wn. 

:ly,  thinking 
fificulty  and 
;,  while,  in 
uth  as  ever, 
df,  if  he  lias 
:  to  the  end 

3m  the  box 

k  the  scrap 
,wn  the  fac- 
which  I  had 
h  to  South- 
next  to  the 
the  P  of  the 
mile. 


^ 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  ^ 

When  I  looked  at  them  thus,  there  was 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  Philip  of  the 
letter  was  the  «  P  "  of  the  label.  I  next 
looked  for  a  capital  H  in  the  letter.  Here 
was  one  in  "Heaven's,"  and  here  was 
another  in  "  Help."  I  placed  them  next  to 
each  other. 

I  had  no  difficulty  about  filling  in  the 
surname.  The  name  of  the  writer  )f  the 
letter  was  Philip  Harvey.  The  name  of 
the  owner  of  the  black  box  was  Philip 
Harvey.  He  was  a  near  relation  of  Austin 
Harvey  ;  and  he  was  the  probable  mur- 
derer of  Miss  Raynell. 

I  considered  I  had  good  reason  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  progress  I  had  made 
since  the  day  before  yesterday.'  The 
crime  had  been  committed,  presumably, 
on  Sunday  night,  I  had  first  heard  of  it  on 
Monday  at  6.30  p.m.     This  was  Wednes- 


i  r 


Va^ 


lOO 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


day  morning.  Not  forty-eight  hours,  then, 
has  elapsed  since  I  had  come  across  it. 
At  that  time  I  knew  nothing.  Now  I  had 
learnt  the  name  of  the  victim,  the  place  of 
the  murder,  many  of  the  circumstances 
immediately  subsequent  to  the  deed,  and 
even  the  name  and  temporary  place  of 
abode  of  the  probable  criminal. 

It  was  now  evident  to  me  that  Miss 
Simpkinson's  first  knowledge  of  the  crime 
must  have  been  received  when  the  box — 
which  she  wrongly  believed  to  be  her  own 
— was  opened  at  the  railway  station.  At 
that  moment  she  must  have  instantly 
realized  either  that  the  box  was  not  hers, 
or  that  it  had  been  tampered  with.  What 
indications  she  possessed  which  would 
immediately  point  her  to  the  true  assassin, 
I  had  no  means  of  determining.  She  had 
evidently  concluded  aright,  and  her  first 
impulse  had  been  to  screen  a.  member  of 
her  lover's  family — his  brother,  very  pos- 
sibly. 


VDER. 

ht  hours,  then, 
me  across  il. 
Now  I  had 
1,  the  place  of 
circumstances 
he  deed,  and 
rary  place  of 
al. 

ne  that  Miss 
:  of  the  crime 
len  the  box — 
to  be  her  own 
^  station.  At 
ave  instantly 
was  not  hers, 

with.     What 
which    would 

true  assassin, 
ing.     She  had 

and  her  first 

a.  member  of 
ler,  very  pos- 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  io| 

A  girl  of  considerable  fortitude,  this. 
But  I  must  say  I  prefer  the  mother's 
screams  and  fainting  fits.  They  seem 
more  natural. 

The  question  which  now  came  up  fore- 
most, waiting  to  be  grappled  with,  was,  of 
course,  this,  "  How  and  why  was  the  deed 
done  ?  " 

That  question  must  be  answered  in 
England.  It  must  be  answered,  if  possible, 
by  Mr.  Philip  Harvey. 

I  telegraphed  to  my  employers,  and 
made  arrangements  for  leaving  Paris  that 
night.  Any  bungling  young  novice  could 
take  charge  of  the  two  children  at  the 
Grand  Hotel.  I  intended  to  cross  over  to 
London  first,  there  to  see  my  employers, 
and  to  make  sure  of  the  trunk,  and  then  to 
go  down  to  Dover,  and  commence  opera- 
tions there.  Philip  Harvey  now  became 
the  central  point  of  all  my  cogitations. 
Philip  !  I  must  find  him  out  and  learn 
more  about  him.  And  I  must  get  hold  of 
the  man  before  his  brother  found  time  and 


{■■I 


■ 


103 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


opportunity  to  bid  him  fly.    Good  heavens ! 
had  he  not  already  been  able  to  do  that  ? 

I  rushed  over  to  England.  Never  has 
there  been  so  slow  a  train — never  so  sea- 
sick and  storm-tossed  a  vessel. 


H. 


od  heavens ! 
)  do  that  ? 

Never  has 
ever  so  sea- 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


«>3 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AT  THE   TRUNKMAKEr's. 

As  soon  as  I  had  reached  London,  and 
spoken  to  my  employers,  I  began  the 
further  investigation  of  the  Black-Box 
Murder.  The  discovery  at  the  Gare  du 
Nord  had  taken  place  on  Monday  evening, 
as  I  have  just  said.  I  left  Paris  on  Thurs- 
day morning,  another  man  having  come 
out  by  the  Wednesday  night-boat  to  take 
my  place. 

Before  starting,  I  received  the  following 
note  from  Austin  Harvey.  He  sent  it  me 
by  post, — 

"  Sir,— I  was  beside  myself  this  morning,  and 
behaved  like  a  madman.  I  can  only  explain  and 
excuse  my  conduct  by  ref'^rence  to  the  terrible  posi- 
tion  in  which  I  am  so  unexpectedly  placed.  You 
will  take  into  account,  and  make  all  allowance.  I 
must  beg  you— in  spite  of  my  rudeness— to  continue 


I 


i>iM«*w  ^whtHthu 


104 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


f:' 


■«!!! 


your  investigation.  Anything  is  preferable  to  this 
horrible  uncertainty.  I  shall  remain,  till  further 
notice,  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Paix. — Yours,  etc., 

"Austin  Harvey." 

Poor  fellow  !  Was  it  possible  to  make 
amends  in  a  more  frank  and  honorable 
manner  ?  I  could  indeed  forgive  him 
what  little  injury  he  had  done  me,  for,  if 
my  surmises  were  correct,  his  position  was 
truly  a  most  awful  one. 

On  Friday  morning,  at  an  early  hour, 
before  customers  would  be  arriving,  I 
walked  across  to  the  place  of  business  of 
Messrs.  Browne  &  Elder,  trunkmakers, 
etc.,  1 1 7  Cheapside.  I  asked  to  see  one 
of  the  members  of  the  firm,  and  sent  in  my 
card.  Before  taking  any  other  steps,  I  felt 
I  must  try  to  make  myself  quite  certain  of 
the  actual  existence  of  the  "  Philip  Harvey  " 
whom  I  had  manufactured  out  of  the 
"  Philip  "  of  Austin  Harvey's  letter. 

I  was  admitted  into  a  little  office,  and 
received  by  a  Mr.  Elder,  a  complacent, 
substantial    business    man,     barely    past 


1'!; 

i 


N. 


ER. 

ferable  to  this 
in,  till  further 
rs,  etc., 

^  Harvey." 

)le  to  make 
i  honorable 
forgive  him 
:  me,  for,  if 
30sition  was 

early  hour, 

arriving,    I 

business  of 

unkmakers, 

to  see  one 

I  sent  in  my 

steps,  I  felt 

:e  certain  of 

ip  Harvey  " 

3ut  of    the 

itter. 

office,  and 
:ompIacent, 
►arely    past 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  ,05 

middle  age.  Evidently  a  prosperous  con- 
cern, this  trunkmaking  business.  So  much 
the  better.  The  larger  the  trade,  the 
more  accurate  the  book-keeping.  I  should 
probably  be  able  to  obtain  the  information 
I  was  in  search  of. 

I  had  hesitated  for  a  moment,  on  my 
way  to  the  place,  whether  I  should  present 
myself  as  an  intending  customer,  recom- 
mended by  Mr.  Harvey,  or  openly  ask  for 
the  help  I  required  in  my  quality  as  a 
detective.  I  chose  the  latter  alternative, 
because  it  was  the  simpler.  During  my 
detective  career,  when  in  doubt,  I  always 
chose  the  simplest  way. 

I  described  the  black  box  I  had  seen  at 
Paris  as  accurately  as  I  could.  Mr.  Elder 
at  once  recognized  the  article. 

"  Those  boxes  are  a  specialty  of  ours," 
he  said.  ''  They  were  designed  to  supply 
a  special  want.  They  are  very  strong, 
very  plain,  and  very  inexpensive.  They 
are  hardly  intended  to  carry  articles  of 
clothing,  although,  of  course,  they  could  be 


N. 


ISJ! 
llif 


1 06 


THE  B LACK- n OX  MURDER. 


used  for  that  also.  But  they  are  especially 
suitable  for  books,  or  shooting  and  fishing 
apparatus,  or  any  of  the  thousand  odds 
and  ends  which  people  cannot  pack  in  with 
their  wearing  apparel.  Many  travelers 
stand  in  need  of  an  extra  receptacle  of  that 
kind,  and  our  boxes  come  in  very  useful  at 
the  price  we  are  able  to  charge  for  them. 
We  sell  a  great  many." 

*'  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  I  said  politely, 
"  although  it  will  make  my  request  for 
assistance  all  the  more  troublesome.  Might 
I  ask,  do  you  make  them  in  various 
sizes  ?  " 

*'  We  do.  There  are  three  sizes.  I  will 
let  you  see  them." 

We  went  into  the  show-room.  There 
stood,  in  a  prominent  position,  three  boxes, 
made  exactly  like  the  one  I  had  seen  in 
Franfois  Dubert's  police-station,  only  of 
different  dimensions.  I  immediately  select- 
ed the  medium  one. 

"  That  is  the  box  I  am  in  search  of,"  I 
said,  "  and  all  that  I  want  to  know  is,  have 


mmk 


•V 


OER. 

ire  especially 
g^  and  fishing 
ousand  odds 
pack  in  with 
ny  travelers 
)tacle  of  that 
ery  useful  at 
ge  for  them. 

said  politely, 
request  for 

lome.  Might 
in    various 

sizes.     I  will 

* 
lom.     There 

three  boxes, 
had  seen  in 
ion,  only  of 
lately  select- 
search  of,"  I 
now  is,  have 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER.  107 

you  sold  such  a  box  recently  to  a  MissOrr- 
Simpkinson,  and  another,  probably  some 
time  before,  to  a  Mr.  Harvey  .?  " 

"  As  for  the  first  half  of  your  question,  I 
can  answer  that  immediately— can  answer 
it  from  memory,"  said  Mr.  Elder,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation.  '•  We  sold  a  box 
about  a  week  ago  to  a  lady  of  that 
name  at  Southend.  I  remember  her  writ- 
ing about  it,  describing  what  she  wanted, 
and  saying  that  a  gentleman  had  recom- 
mended us.     I  can  show  you  the  letter." 

He  stalked  off  to  a  file  hanging  in  his 
office,  and,  after  a  little  searching,  and  one 
or  two  exclamations— such  as,  "  That's  it ! " 
"No,  it's  not!"  and  so  on— produced  a 
sheet  of  notepaper,  which  he  triumphantly 
laid  on  the  table. 

It  was  a  short  note  from  Miss  Simpkin- 
son,  dated  from  Southend,  stating  that  the 
lady  desired  to  have  one  of  Messrs.  Browne 
&  Elder's  plain  black  boxes,  size  No.  2— 
thirty  shillings— recommended  by  a  gentle- 
man who  had  recently  purchased  one.  The 


fe 


i 


^" 


io8 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


m. 


!:■■ 
is'  ■ 

if,:' 


letter  was  barely  ten  days  old.  A  cheque 
for  the  amount  due  had  been  enclosed,  as 
shown  by  the  postscript.  A  second  post- 
script— rather  a  superfluous  one,  it  seemed 
to  me — stated  that  Miss  Simpkinson  re- 
quired the  box  for  packing  photographic 
apparatus." 

'•  That  proves  one  half,"  I  said—"  but 
by  far  the  least  important  half.  Now,  as 
to  Mr.  Harvey.  Can  you  also  help  me — 
if  only  half  as  well — with  regard  to  the  box 
purchased  by  a  Mr.  Harvey  ?  " 

"  Harvey,  Harvey,"  said  the  trunkmaker, 
passing  a  capacious  hand  over  a  fat  fore- 
head. *'  That  must  be  some  time  back. 
I  do  not  remember  the  name." 

He  turned  to  a  bulky  ledger  lying  on  the 
table,  and  began  looking  over  the  pages. 
He  ran  his  finger  rapidly  down  the  long  list 
of  names.  I  stood  watching  anxiously.  As 
for  Miss  Simpkinson's  purchase,  that  was 
of  very  little  importance ;  I  knew  enough 
of  it  already.  But  to  find  out  the  existence, 
perhaps  the  address,  of  the  possessor  of 


DER. 

..  A  cheque 
enclosed,  as 
second  post- 
ne,  it  seemed 
ipkinson  re- 
photographic 

said — "  but 
If.  Now,  as 
;o  help  me — 
•d  to  the  box 

trunkmaker, 
er  a  fat  fore- 
j  time  back. 

r  lying  on  the 
ir  the  pages. 
I  the  long  list 
ixiously.  As 
ise,  that  was 
cnew  enough 
he  existence, 
possessor  of 


T//E  BLACKDOX  MURDER.  ,09 

the  second  black  box— that  was  altogether 
a  different  matter. 

Mr.  Elder  knitted  his  eyebrows. 
"  The  name  s  not  here,"  he  said.     "  It 
must  have  been  last  year.' 

He  took  down  another  unwieldy  vol- 
ume, and  began  hurrying  through  it  in  the 
same  way.  Suddenly  his  face  brightened. 
"  Here's  a  Mr.  Harvey,"  he  said. 
My  heart  gave  a  great  leap.  He  pushed 
the  book  towards  me,  and  showed  me  the 
entry.  A  black  box,  size  No.  i,  had  been 
sold  fifteen  months  ago  to  a  Mr.  John  Har- 
vey, a  ship's  surgeon,  and  sent  to  him  on 
board  ship  at  Southampton. 

"That's  not  the  man,"  I  said;  but  I 
noted  down  the  fact,  all  the  same.  In  my 
mind,  however,  I  dismissed  the  ship's  sur- 
geon at  once.  Besides,  the  box  in  Paris 
was  a  No.  2. 

Mr.  Elder  most  obligingly  looked  through 
another  half  year,  and  then  closed  the 
volume. 


no 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


I 


Wv 


ijr, 


"  I  need  go  no  further  back,"  he  said, 
"  for  we  brought  out  the  boxes  about  that 
time.  They  have  not  been  in  the  market 
for  more  than  a  year  and  a  half." 

I  thanked  him  rather  half-heartedly.  I 
wondered  to  myself  whether  he  could  have 
missed  the  entry.     It  was  hardly  probable. 

"  Can  you  distinguish  the  boxes  ?  "  I 
asked.      "  Have  they  all  different  keys  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  "  they  all  have 
different  keys.  We  never  allow  two  similar 
keys  to  leave  our  premises  on  any  account. 
In  fact,  the  chief  expense  of  the  black 
boxes — cheap  as  they  are — is  the  excellent 
lock  we  supply  with  them.  We  number 
all  our  keys.  I  could  put  my  finger  on 
any  given  number  at  once,  in  case  of  a  cus- 
tomer's writing  to  have  his  key  replaced." 

"  Do  you  number  the  keys  ?  "  I  asked, 
"  or  the  lock  ?  " 

"The  key — the  key  only.  It  would 
hardly  be  safe  to  number  the  lock." 

That  explained  my  seeing  no  number. 
I  think  I  should  hardly  have  overlooked  it. 


^. 


PER. 

ck,"  he  said, 
;s  about  that 
in  the  market 
If." 

heartedly.  I 
le  could  have 
dly  probable. 

boxes.?"  I 
rent  keys  ?  " 
they  all  have 
w  two  similar 

any  account, 
af  the  black 
the  excellent 

We  number 
Tiy  finger  on 
case  of  a  cus- 
ey  replaced." 
s  ? "  I  asked, 

It  would 
lock." 

■  no  number. 
)verlooked  it. 


TUB  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


Ill 


But  all  this  was  provokingly  useless  to  rae 
now. 

I  had  no  pretext  for  prolonging  my  visit. 
I  thanked  Mr.  Elder  for  his  kindness,  and 
took  my  leave.  As  for  my  Philip  Harvey, 
he  seemed  to  have  grown  a  very  mythical 
personage.  None  the  less,  I  could  not  get 
the  similarity  of  the  P.  H.  and  the  hand- 
writing of  the  letter  out  of  my  head.  It 
was  too  extraordinary  a  coincidence.  The 
only  advantage  I  had  derived  from  my 
visit  to  the  trunkmaker  was  that  I  had 
obtained  Miss  Simpkinson's  Southend 
address. 


112 


2 HE  BLACK-BOX  MURDLK. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE     CRUMPLED   CARD. 

I  LEFT  Messrs.  Browne  &  Elder's  premises 
in  rather  a  dejected  state.  Perhaps  I  was 
unreasonably  dejected. 

I  had  built  too  implicitly  on  the  "  Philip 
Harvey  "  theory,  and  now  I  could  not  deny 
to  myself  that,  after  all,  I  had  no  proof, 
absolutely  no  proof,  of  the  existence  of  such 
a  person. 

All  the  same,  I  felt  that  he  did  exist,  and 
that,  somehow,  I  must  get  hold  of  evidence 
of  his  existence,  and  of  his  whereabouts.  I 
had  obtained  possession  of  Miss  Simpkin- 
son's  Southend  address — 23  Marine  Parade, 
She  must  have  lived  only  a  few  houses  off 
from  Miss  Raynell,  for  that  unfortunate 
lady,  as  Mr.  Harvey  had  told  me,  had 
occupied  apartments  at  No.  1 7. 


■'MifUi 


LK. 


D. 

ir's  premises 
:rhaps  I  was 

the  "Philip 
uld  not  deny 
id  no  proof, 
tence  of  such 

lid  exist,  and 
1  of  evidence 
ereabouts.  I 
iss  Simpkin- 
arine  Parade, 
:w  houses  off 
unfortunate 
jld  me,  had 
h 


7HE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  113 

I  Started  for  Southend  that  afternoon. 

In  the  train  I  mused  gloomily  on  the 
case.  My  entire  view  of  it  rested  on  the 
assumption  that  the  black  box  which  had 
contained  the  corpse  belonged  to  a  Mr. 
Philip  Harvey,  but  I  had  no  other  proof  of 
the  existence  of  such  a  person  than  the  P. 
H.  faintly  scrawled  in  a  corner  of  the  lug- 
gage-label I  had  discovered,  and  the  letter 
to  Austin  from  some  Philip,  surname  un- 
k  .own.  I  had  to  admit  that  this  was  not 
much. 

As  soon  as  I  reached  Southend,  I  went 
\o  No.  23.  It  was  an  ordinary  lodging- 
house,  exactly  like  all  lodging-houses  at  all 
English  seaside  places.  There  was  a  frame 
with  "Apartments"  over  the  hall  door, 
Jut  there  was  no  card  with  "  To  let "  in  any 
of  the  windows.  Presumably  the  landlady's 
house  was  full. 

I  rang  and  knocked  boldly,  all  the  same. 
The  worthy  in  question  presently  appeared, 
peeping  over  the  banisters,  and  trying  to 

8 


■\ 


•V 


iir 


m 


isfi' 


'MU 


Ml 


11 

m 


tI4  TffE  B  LA  CUT-BOX  MURDER. 

attract  the  attention  of  a  certain  Sally  down 
below  in  a  loud  whisper. 

Sally — probably  a  maid -of-all- work — 
refused,  however,  to  cpme  to  her  mistress' 
assistance,  and  so,  ultimately,  that  lady 
descended  and  came  across  the  little  hall 
to  the  open  door  in  a  would-be  dignified 
manner. 

"  And  what  might  you  be  pleased  to 
require,  sir  ? "  said  the  landlady,  whose 
name,  by-the-bye,  as  I  soon  learned,  was 
Mrs.  Bunbury.  Poor  Mrs.  Bunbury !  If 
she  is  still  alive,  I  hereby  warmly  recom- 
mend her  rooms. 

"  I  am  looking  for  apartments,  madam," 
I  answered,  "  and  I  thought  that  perhaps 
you " 

"  My  house  Is  quite  full,"  said  Mrs.  Bun- 
bur}',  shortly. 

I  often  wonder  whether  there  is  any- 
where in  all  the  world  as  great  a  difference 
between  animals  of  the  same  species  as 
that  which  exists  between  the  hotel-keeper 
who  has  one  room  open,  and  the  hotel- 
keeper  who  has  none  to  spare. 


m 


•V 


IRDER. 

tain  Sally  down 

id-of-all-work — 
to  her  mistress' 
tely,  that  lady 
3  the  little  hall 
uld-be  dignified 

be  pleased  to 
mdlady,  whose 
n  learned,  was 
Bunbury !  If 
warmly  recom- 

nents,  madam," 
t  that  perhaps 

said  Mrs.  Bun- 
there  is  any- 
eat  a  difference 
ime  species  as 
le  hotel-keeper 
and  the  hotel- 
ire. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  tt5 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  I  remarked  coolly, 
*'  I  had  heard  of  your  rooms.  I  think  you 
had  a  Mrs.  Orr-Simpkinson  staying  here 
for  the  last  three  weeks  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  had,"  said  Mrs.  Bunbury. 
She  evidendy'did  not  belong  to  the  loqua- 
cious class  of  landladies. 

"  Pleasant  lodgers,  were  they  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  that  may  be  as  it  may  be," 
said  Mrs.  Bunbury,  pursing  up  her  lips. 
*•  I  don't  say  they  were  not,  and  I  don't 
say  they  were.  I've  seen  better,  and  I've 
seen  worse.  The  young  lady  were  good. 
Sfie  give  no  trouble,  though  she  were  some- 
what peculiar.  But  as  for  the  old  one,  she 
were  what  they  call  '  nervous,'  when  peo- 
ple's rich.  When  people's  poor  they  call 
it  short  in  your  temper." 

This  was  a  long  speech  for  Mrs.  Bun- 
bury, and — having  made  it — she  shut  up 
her  mouth  with  a  snap. 

"And  so  you  have  let  their  rooms  al- 
ready," I  remarked  suavely.     *•  I  am  sorry 


f- 


1 16 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


li'^ 


ir 


S^ 


for  that — at  least  for  my  own  sake" — 
which  was  quite  true,  for  I  had  wanted  to 
see  them,  and  had  hoped,  besides,  to  find 
a  chattering  proprietress,  eager  to  tell  all 
she  knew.  Decidedly  I  had  no  luck  this 
time.  • 

"  Yes,  they're  let,"  said  Mrs.  Bunbury, 
"  And  will  not  be  vacant  for  some  time  ?  " 
"  They're  let  for  the  next  fortnight  to  a 
party  as  is  coming  down  from  London," 
said  Mrs.  Bunbury.  "  It's  not  much,  one 
fortnight,  but  my  rooms  are  never  vacant 
long." 

"Only  a  fortnight!"  I  cried  quickly. 
"  And  I  could  have  them  after  that  ?  That 
might  be  made  to  suit,  perhaps.  But  I 
should  have  liked  to  see  tliem." 

"  Oh,  you  can  see  them,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Bunbury,  unbending  very  considerably. 
"  The  party  as  I  was  speaking  of  don't 
come  in  till  to-morrow,  and  Mrs.  Simpkin- 
son  left  last  Monday.  You  can  certainly 
see  the  rooms." 


wmk 


ivn  sake  " — 
d  wanted  to 
ides,  to  find 
:r  to  tell  all 
10  luck  this 

s.  Bunbury. 
ome  time  ?  " 
Drtnight  to  a 
m  London," 
it  much,  one 
lever  vacant 

ed  quickly, 
that?  That 

ips.     But  I 

» 

"  said  Mrs. 
jnsiderably. 
ng  of  don't 
rs.  Simpkin- 
m  certainly 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


It7 


She  stepped  aside  and  invited  me  to 
enter,  with  a  contortion  of  the  face  which 
was  intended  to  be  pleasing. 

"  No,  really,"  I  expostulated,  ''  I  cannot 
trouble  you.  Now,  if  you  would  let  a  maid 
show  me  the  'apartments — "  I  hoped  to 
find  the  servant  more  ready  to  talk  than  the 
mistress. 

"  I  prefer  to  show  them  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Bunbury. 

But  I  made  one  more  attempt.  It  is 
true  that  you  can  make  every  one  do  just 
what  you  like  by  playing  on  his  vanity,  if 
you  care  to. 

*'  No,  no,  my  dear  madam,"  I  exclaimed, 
"  I  really  cannot  allow  you.  I  must  beg 
of  you.  If  you  keep  a  girl,  let  your  girl  go 
up  with  me.     That  is  all  I  require." 

"  If  you  keep  a  girl,  indeed  !  " 

From  that  moment  Mrs.  Bunbury's  one 
idea  was  to  let  me  see  what  sort  of  a  maid 
she  had.  She  rang  the  door  bell,  and — 
this  proving  futile — again  screamed  for 
Sally . 


mm 


Ii8 


r//E  BLACh'-BOX  MURDER. 


i 


I" 


iji-i;  ■. 


At  last  Sally  appeared,  very  red  about 
the  face,  but,  wondrous  to  relate — very 
neat  about  the  hair.  Mrs.  Bunbury  was  a 
woman  who  knew  how  to  manage  her 
household.  Sally  preceded  me  upstairs, 
and  Mrs.  Bunbury  retired  majestically  to 
her  private  sitting-room. 

The  lodgings  were  like  any  other  lodg- 
ings. There  was  nothing  in  ih^m  that 
looked  as  if  it  ever  had  been,  or  ever  could 
be,  of  the  faintest  interest  to  any  one.  The 
prim  furniture  stood  exactly  where  you 
would  expect  it  to  stand,  and  looked  as 
tiresome  and  impersonal  as  you  would 
expect  it  to  look.  The  table  was  empty 
but  for  a  little  hand-bell,  placed  exactly  in 
the  middle.  The  mantelpiece  showed  a 
gilt  clock,  a  pair  of  bright  vases,  and  a  pair 
of  thin  candlesticks  in  a  regimental  line. 
Everything  was  tidy  and  neatly  brushed. 
Superfluities  there  were  none.- 

I  was  turning  away  in  despair,— not  that 
I  had  expected  anything  in  particular,  but 
you  are  always  on  the  look-out  for  the 


'«euiv 


^a 


DER. 

:ry  red  about 
relate — very 

unbury  was  a 
manage  her 
me   upstairs, 

tajestically  to 

ly  other  lodg- 
n  ih^m  that 
or  ever  could 
iny  one.  The 

where  you 
nd  looked  as 

you  would 
le  was  empty 
;d  exactly  in 
ce  showed  a 
es,  and  a  pair 
fimental  line. 
Ltly  brushed. 

lir,— not  that 
articular,  but 
-out  for  the 


THE  BLACKBOX  MURDER.  „, 

unexpected  in  the  detective  profession,— 
when  my  eyes  fell  on  the  grate.  It  was  an 
ordinary  grate,  very  cold-looking  at  this 
time  of  the  year,  with  a  heap  of  coals  neatly 
arranged  on  wood  and  paper.  The  coals 
were  dusty,-they  had  evidently  lain  there 
for  some  timc.—and  a  few  paper  scraps  had 
been  thrown  on  top  of  them. 

These  paper  scraps  were  worth  picking 
up,  at  anyrate.  They  might  contain  noth- 
ing, and  they  might  be  of  use.  Who  could 
tell  ? 

But  how  to  get  at  them  with  the  girl 
staring  at  me .?  She  had  probably  received 
the  strictest  orders  never  to  quit  intending 
tenants  under  any  pretence. 

T  took  a  shilling  out  of  my  waistcoat 
pocket,  and  held  it  towards  the  maid. 

"  Here's  for  your  trouble,  my  good  girl," 
1  said. 

As  she  stretched  out  her  red  hand,  I 
dropped  the  coin,  then  stumbled  as  it  fell, 
and  deliberately  kicked  it  under  a  chest  of 


110 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


drawers.     The  thing  was  clumsily  done, 
but  it  attained  my  object. 

The  girl  looked  longingly  in  the  direction 
in  which  the  shilling  had  disappeared. 

"  We  must  get  it  out,"  I  said.  "  The 
tongs  are  too  big.  Run  for  my  umbrella ; 
it's  in  the  hall  downstairs." 

Sally  disappeared,  and  in  a  moment  I  had 
snatched  the  odd  scraps  of  paper  off  the 
coals.  Two  or  three  of  them,  I  saw  at  a 
glance,  were  remnants  of  torn-up  trades- 
men's cards ;  one  was  a  private  visiting- 
card,  with  something  scribbled  at  the  back. 
It  was  doubled  in  two.  I  opened  it,  and 
read  the  name — 


Mr.  Philip  Harvey. 

I  turned  the  card.  On  the  back  was 
scrawled  :  "  At  2.30,  then.     How  jolly ! " 

I  saw  immediately  that  the  "  H "  of 
« How  jolly  "  was  exactly  similar  to  the 
"  H's  "  in  the  letter  signed  "  Philip,"  and 
also,  as  I  then  thought,  to  the  ''  H  "  on  the 
luggage  label.     I  made  a  mistake   as  to 


"iDER. 

ilumsily  done, 

n  the  direction 
ippeared. 

said.    "The 
my  umbrella; 

moment  I  had 
paper  off  the 
m,  I  saw  at  a 
>rn-up  trades- 
vate  visiting- 
d  at  the  back, 
pened  it,  and 

EY. 

lie  back  was 
low  jolly !" 
:he  «H"  of 
milar  to  the 
Philip,"  and 
"  H  "  on  the 
istake   as  to 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


121 


I' 

I 


this  latter  item,  but  I  still  think  it  was  a 
pardonable  one. 

The  maid  came  running  back  with  my 
umbrella,  and  I  hurriedly  put  the  scraps  of 
paper  into  my  pocket. 

Philip  Harvey  was  a  reality,  then,  after 
all. 

I  questioned  the  maid  about  the  lodgers 
while  we  fished  for  the  shilling,  and  found 
her  quite  willing  to  talk,  if  only  she  had 
something  to  tell. 

*'  Yes,  the  two  ladies  had  stayed  there 
three  weeks,  and  was  haffable ;  only  the 
holder  one  did  'ate  to  ring  twice,  and  used 
to  go  into  the  most  hawful  tantrums,  has  if 
a  poor  girl  *ad  four  legs  to  'er  body.  No, 
there  didn't  use  to  come  very  many  people 
to  see  'em,  'cos  they  didn't  know  many 
people  in  Southend  ;  but  a  hold  lady  came 
wunst,  what  looked  fearful  cross,  with  white 
'air  and  a  wicked  hold  face  " — there,  there, 
my  good  Sally,  the  old  lady  is  dead ;  de 
mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum,  you  know — "and 
the  two  gents  as  was  alius  a-coming." 


f- 


li 


tft  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 

**  What  two  gents  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  clergyman  and  t'other  one— 
his  brother.  Pleasant  spoken  gent,  the 
clergyman.  They  was  'ere  as  much  as 
'arf-a-dozen  times  a  day  sometimes.  And 
Miss  Simpkinson — well " — Sally  looked 
volumes — *'  Miss  Simpkinson  was  engaged 
to  the  clergyman,"  said  Sally,  in  a  most 
meaning  way. 

I  could  not  get  out  of  her  what  she 
meant.  "  Miss  Simpkinson  was  engaged  to 
the  clergyman,"  said  Sally. 

I  should  have  learned  a  good  deal  more, 
perhaps,  had  Mrs.  Bunbury  not  come 
shuffling  about  the  hall. 

"  There's  missis,"  said  Sally,  who  had 
recovered  her  shilling.  "  Don't  you  think 
we'd  better  go  down  again  now,  sir  ?  " 

She  ran  off  as  she  spoke,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  follow  her.  On  the  landing  1 
still  obtained  a  hurried  description  of  the 
two  gentlemen  who  used  to  call.  I  recog- 
nized the  one  immediately  as  Austin 
Harvey. 


mmk 


WER. 

[  t'other  one— 
cen  gent,  the 
i  as  much  as 
letimes.  And 
■Sally  looked 
n  was  engaged 
ly,  in  a  most 

her  what  she 
was  engaged  to 

ood  deal  more, 
iry   not  come 

ally,  who  had 
on't  you  think 
low,  sir  ?  " 
:e,  and  I  was 
the  landing  1 
cription  of  the 
call.  I  recog- 
ly    as    Austin 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


I«3 


"  The  jther  was  like  him,  rather,  but 
thinner  and  sallower,  and  looked,  between 
you  and  me,  as  if  he'd  led  a  bit  of  a  wild 
life,  sir.  That  was  Mr.  Philip,  sir  ;  and  he 
wasn't  a  bad-looking  chap  either." 

"The  rooms  are  excellent,  madam,"  I 
said  to  the  landlady,  who  stood  waiting 
impatiently  in  the  hall  downstairs,  "  and 
just  suitable,  I  should  think  ; "  and  I  talked 
about  the  terms  with  her,  and  found  those 
suitable  too. 

Mrs.  Bunbury  was  very  anxious  to  know 
the  name  of  her  intending  lodger. 

'*  Spence,"  I  said.  "  Mr.  Spence,  from 
London." 

I  do  not  deal  in  aliases ;  they  always 
get  you  into  trouble.  I  took  one,  once  for 
all,  thirty  years  ago,  to  spare  the  feelings 
of  an  honored  father,  and  I  have  stuck  to 
that  ever  since.  It  is  more  my  own  name 
than  an  alias  now. 


li 


I 


■■ 


m 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDEH, 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    SCENE   OF   THE    MURDER. 

From  No.  23  I  went  to  No.  1 7,  as  soon  as 
I  was  sure  Mrs.  Bunbury  had  given  up 
watching  me  down  the  street.  I  had  to  go 
through  a  repetition  of  the  same  comedy  at 
No.  17.  I  asked  for  apartments,  of  course. 
No.  17  possessed  a  loquacioi  landlady,  a 
very  old  woman,  half  blind,  and  consi- 
derably more  than  half  deaf,  whose  deaf- 
ness, however,  had  by  no  means  marred 
her  loquacity.  Like  so  many  of  her  class, 
she  had  seen  "better  days,"  and  she 
mournfully  rejoiced  in  the  recollection  of 
them.  Those  better  days  are  often  of  a 
most  mysterious  goodness,  and  the  worse 
the  present  moment  seems  to  be,  the 
brighter  doth  that  better  past  become  in 
the  memory  and  on  the  lips  of  the  unfortu- 


r 


f- 


RD£R. 


11. 

VIURDER. 

1 7,  as  soon  as 
had  given  up 
t.     I  had  to  go 
ame  comedy  at 
ents,  of  course. 
31.  -  landlady,  a 
id,  and  consi- 
if,  whose  deaf- 
means  marred 
tiy  of  her  class, 
lys,"   and    she 
recollection  of 
are  often  of  a 
and  the  worse 
lis   to  be,  the 
past  become  in 
;  of  the  unfortu- 


Jm 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  |«5 

nate.  The  landlady's  name  was  Mrs. 
Jessop.  Her  husband  had  been  a  clergy- 
man. 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  that  Miss  Ray- 
nell's  rooms  were  not  to  be  let.  I  was  still 
more  surprised  to  hear — in  fact,  I  could 
not  suppress  a  slight  shiver — that  Miss 
Raynell  was  still  occupying  them. 

"  She  has  gone  up  to  London  for  a  day 
or  two,"  said  Mrs.  Jessop,  "  but  I  expect 
her  back  in  the  course  of  the  week." 

Poor  old  lady  !  She  had  gone  up  to 
London,  indeed.  Mrs.  Jessop  told  me  all 
I  wanted  to  know  about  her  lodgers,  and 
even  a  good  deal  more,  which  is  saying 
much  for  a  detective.  She  had  a  most 
irritating,  affected  little  cough,  which  came 
up  between  every  bunch  of  half-a-dozen 
words,  and  hooked  them  together  and  on 
to  the  next  batch.  It  was  a  nervous 
cough.  Probably  her  deafness  prevented 
her  hearing  it.  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  the 
genteel  appurtenances  she  had  saved  out 
of  the  wreck  of  her  former  days. 


Tl 


!>■ 


\\ 


ia6 


THE  BLACK'POX  MURDER. 


"  No,  the  rooms  are  not  disengaged," 
said    Mrs.   Jessop.    *' The  lady  who  oc- 
cupies  them— h'm  h'm— has  gone  up  to 
London  for  a  week.     You  appear  to  know 
her,  sir,  so  you  will  not  be  surprised  at  my 
saying  that   Miss   Raynell— with  all   her 
good    qualities— is— h'm     h'm— very    pe- 
culiar.    She  does  not  like  to  be — h'm— 
intruded  on,  as  she  calls  it.     Not  that  I 
ever  intruded  on  any  one,"  Mrs.  Jessop 
continued,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "  but  1 
have   never  shunned   the  society  of  my 
equals.     Miss  Raynell  appears  to  do  so. 
And  she  cannot  complain  that,  once  this 
being  hinted—  merely  hinted,  you  may  be 
sure, — she  got  too  much  of  mine.     I  should 
have— h'm  h'm— scorned  to  impose  it.     I 
have  known  better  days,  sir,  and  I  am  well 
aware  that  no  lady  would  impose — ^h'm — 
her  society  on  any  other  lady." 

I  began  to  understand  that  Miss  Ray- 
nell, whether  she  was  peculiar  or  not,  must 
hcv/e  found  Mrs.  Jessop  a  nuisance.  I  cut 
oti  the  overflow  by  asking  if  Miss  Raynell 


')ER. 

disengaged," 
idy  who  oc- 

gone  up  to 
pear  to  know 
rprised  at  my 
with  all  her 
n — very  pe- 
o  be — h'm— 
Not  that  I 

Mrs.  Jcssop 
head,  "  but  I 
aciety  of  my 
ars  to  do  so. 
lat,  once  this 
f,  you  may  be 
ine.  I  should 
impose  it.  I 
and  I  am  well 
npose — ^h'm — 

lat  Miss  Ray- 
ir  or  not,  must 
lisance.  I  cut 
r  Miss  Raynell 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


\^^ 


had  her  nephews  with  her.  I  had  to  call 
out  the  question  once  or  twice.  Decidedly, 
the  old  woman  was  very  deaf. 

"  Her  nephews,"  said  the  landlady, 
*'  were  with  her  a  good  deal  off  and  on. 
The  eldest  was,  as  you  are  perhaps  aware 
— h'm — at  the  church  of  Mary  the  Virgin 
— not  a  church  I  should  care  to  attend,  sir. 
My  people  have  never  countenanced 
popish  practices,  and  my  dear  husband 
used  to  say " 

"  And  Philip  }  "  I  imerrupted.  I  could 
not  help  it.  "  Cetait  plus  fort  que  moil' 
as  the  French  say. 

'*  Philip — h'm — as  I  believe  the  young 
man  was  called,  rather  a — h'm — wild  young 
man,  I  should  say,  only  that  no  young  men 
are  considered  wild  now-a-days.  Philip 
has  a  small  room  here,  which  he  occupies 
sometimes,  next  tt)  the  old  lady's.  He's 
here  off  and  on.  He  doesn't — h'm — get 
on  too  well  with  his  aunt.  She  is — h'm — 
peculiar,  and  not  always  pleasant  spoken 
to  her  elder  nephew,  who  is,  I  believe,  a 


fi;33C»4.l5ic*; 


! 
-til 


128  THE   BLACK-BOX   MURDER. 

most  estimable  young  man,  in  spite  of  his 
papistical  proclivities.     But— h'm— as  my 

dear  husband  used  to  say ' 

«  Has  Mr.  Philip  Harvey  been  here  since 
his  aunt  left,  Mrs.  Jessop  ?  " 

"  He  has  not,  sir.  The  rooms  are— h'm 
—not  being  used  for  the  moment.  Would 
you  like  to  see  them  ?  They  are— h'm— 
as  good  as  any  rooms  in  Southend." 

I  acquiesced  with  alacrity.  There  was 
a  pleasant  bay-windowed  front  room  on  the 
ground  floor.  Behind  this  was  a  good- 
sized  bedroom,  with  a  little  chamber  com- 
municating with  it. 

«  The  rooms  are  just  as  Miss  Raynell 
left  them,"  said  Mrs.  Jessop.  "  She  started 
on  Monday  morning  without  as  much  as 
saying— h'm— good-bye— just  walked  out 
of  the  house  at  an  unearthly  hour,  and  left 
a  scrap  of  a  note— h'm— on  her  sitting- 
room  table." 

"  Mrs.  Jessop,"  I  said,  confronting  her  in 
the  bow-window.  "  I  have  not  come  here 
to  look  for  apartments.     I  am  a  detective 


r 


'URDER. 

1,  in  spite  of  his 

ut — h'm — as  my 
-t 

f  been  here  since 
>  •» 

rooms  are — h'm 
loment.     Would 
rhey  are^ — h'm — 
louthend." 
rity.     There  was 
Front  room  on  the 
lis  was   a  good- 
:le  chamber  com- 
as Miss  Raynell 
p.     "  She  started 
hout  as  much  as 
-just  walked  out 
;hly  hour,  and  left 
I — on  her  sitting- 
confronting  her  in 
ive  not  come  here 
I  am  a  detective 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


129 


— a  private  detective  from  London.  Miss 
Raynell  is  peculiar,  as  you  say.  Yes,  she 
is  decidedly  peculiar.  She  has  gone  up  to 
London  without  informing  her  nephews  of 
her  whereabouts.  Of  course  it  is  all  right, 
but  they  are  naturally  anxious,  none  the 
less,  lest  anything  should  befall  her.  Mr. 
Austin  Harvey  has  requested  me  to  take 
the  necessary  steps  for  tracing  her.  I 
must  bid  you  let  see  me  that  note  she  left 
behind  her." 

*'  Well,  I  never  !"  said  Mrs.  Jessop. 

She  was  scared  out  of  her  cough  for  the 
moment.  The  majesty  of  the  law  weighed 
heavily  upon  her,  and  she  probably  fancied 
herself  already  half-way  on  the  road  to 
prison.  She  bustled  away  to  bring  me  the 
paper.  On  a  scrap  of  flesh-colored  note, 
which  looked  like  half  a  halfpenny  news- 
paper v/rapper,  was  written  in  a  shaky 
female  hand, — 

"  I  am  going  up  to  London  for  a  few 
days. — E.  R/VYnell." 

9 


I 


130 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


There  was  nothing  else.  I  folded  up  the 
paper,  and  put  it  aviay  in  my  pocket-book. 

«  I  shall  have  to  keep  this,"  \  .?id ;  "  and 
now,  Mrs.  Jessop,  did  any  one  in  this  house 
see  Miss  Raynell  on  Monday  morning? 
Did  you  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Mrs.  Jessop,  when  she 
fully  understood  my  question ;  "  I  am  not 
up  at  all  times  of  the  night  to  suit  my  lod- 
ger's whimsies.  I  work  hard  .11  da>  -h'm 
—a  good  deal  harder  than  I  ever  t: nought 
I  should  have  to,  and  I  take  my  rest  at 
night." 

"  You  think  no  one  else  saw  her — no 
servant,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  one  maid  just  at  present," 
said  Mrs.  Jessop  magnificently,  "once 
upon  a  time  I  had  three,  and  a  man.  My 
present  maid  does  not  sleep  in  the  house. 
She  leaves  at  nine,  and  comes  early  next 
morning.  It  is  an  arrangement,  sir,  whici! 
has  many  advantages.  There  is  a  secu- 
rity  " 


RDER. 

I  folded  up  the. 
\j  pocket-book. 
,"  !o?id;  "and 
le  in  this  house 
iday  morning? 

5op,  when  she 
tn ;  "  I  am  not 
to  suit  iny  lod- 

•d  .11  day — h'm 

i  ever  t' lought 

ike  my  rest  at 

e  saw  her — no 

ust  at  present," 
ficently;  "'once 
id  a  man.  My 
:p  in  the  house. 
)mes  early  next 
ment,  sir,  which 
here  is  a  secu- 


TIIE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


t 

? 


»3« 


*'You  had  no  other  lodgers  in  the 
house  ?  " 

"  Not  a  scui.  My  second-floor  comes 
in  to-morrow." 

"  Who  were  in  the  house  on  the  night 
from  Sunday  to  Monday  ?  Give  all  details 
as  briefly  and  accurately  as  possible,"  I 
said — or  rather  shouted — looking  very 
stern, 

"  Miss  Raynell  had  been  alone  the 
greater  part  of  Sunday.  She  had  gone  to 
St.  Stephen's,  round  the  corner,  in  the 
morning.  St.  Stephen's  is  one  of  those 
churches  which— h'm — ^as  my  dear  hus- 
band used  to  say " 

"  As  briefly  as  possible,"  I  shouted. 

"H'm!  In  the  afternoon  her  nephew, 
Austin,  came  to  see  her.  They  quarrelled, 
at  least — h'm— the  old  lady  abused  her 
nephew.  I  must  say  this  of  Mr.  Austin 
Harvey,  that  he  never  answers  his  aunt 
roughly— always  as  soft  and  kind  as  can 
be.  But  she — h'm — abuses  him,  as  she 
abuses  the  other  one,  who  answers  back 


I 


13a  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURL-MR. 

again  and  gives  her  as  good  as  he  gets. 
Austin's  all  gentleness.     She  dined  alone, 
and  Austin  came  back  for  half  an  hour  in 
the  evening.     There  was  another  scene 
then -at  least,  so  the  girl  said— I'm  too 
deaf ;  I  don't  hear.    When  Mr.  Austin  went 
away  to  his  evening  service — h'm — the  old 
lady  sat  alone  in  the  front  room  reading, 
and  at  ten  she  went  to  bed.    That  was  the 
last  of  her— she  left  the  house  before  seven 
on  Monday  morning,  before  the  girl  had 
come  in,  so  as  to  catch  the  early  train.     I 
heard  the  door  bang  myself." 

"  You  did  not  see  her  go  ?  " 

«  No." 

«  Was  she  in  the  habit  of  slipping  out 

like  that?" 

«  She-was- h'm— I  regret  to  say.  She 
goes  for  walks  along  the  cliffs  before  break- 
fast. She  breakfasts— h'm— at  eight,  sum- 
mer and  winter,  I  believe.  -  A  glass  of  milk 
is  always  put  in  the  sitting-room  over  night, 
and  she  takes  that,  with  a  biscuit,  before 
starting." 


LER. 

d  as  he  gets. 
2  dined  alone, 
lalf  an  hour  in 
another  scene 
said — I'm  too 
[r.  Austin  went 
-h'm— the  old 
room  reading, 
That  was  the 
ic  before  seven 
e  the  girl  had 

early  train.    I 

»» 

?•• 

of  slipping  out 

;t  to  say.  She 
fs  before  break- 
— at  eight,  sum- 
A  glass  of  milk 
oom  over  night, 
El  biscuit,  before 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  133 

"Was  the  glass  emptied  on  Monday 
morning  ?  " 

"  No ;  she  never  came  back." 

"  Was  the  glass  emptied  on  Monday 
morning  ?  " 

*'  Oh  yes,  it  was." 

I  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  The  murderer  must  have  er.ptied  it," 
I  said  to  myself,  not  without  a  ahght  shudder 
at  the  thought.  *'  Not  an  everyday  assas- 
sin, this  Mr.  Philip  Harvey." 

•And  Philip  Harvey,"  I  resumed— 
"  when  was  he  last  here  ?  " 

"  Philip  Harvey — h'm — as  I  was  going 
to  state,"  said  the  landlady,  "  slept  here  on 
the  night  from  Sunday  to  Monday."  I 
started,  but  did  not  interrupt  her.  "  He 
had  been  here  last — h'm — on  Saturday. 
He  came  in  on  Sunday  evening  at  about 
half-past  nine.  I  let  him  in,  for  the  servant 
had  just  gone." 

"  And  when  did  he  leave  ?  ** 

"Eh.?" 


I 


31. 


K:; 


134  THE  3 LACK-BOX  MURDER. 

*'  When  did  he  go  away  on  Monday  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  doesn't— h'm— get  up  early,  as 
a  rule,  you  may  be  sure,  but  he  had  to, 
comparatively,  that  day.  He  left  for  Lon- 
don at  nine  o'clock." 

•'Alone?" 

"  No ;  his  brother  came  to  fetch  him. 
He  breakfasted  in  his  bedroom,  and  then 
they  left  together  in  a  cab." 

"  With  luggage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  portmanteau,  and — h'm— a  big 
black  box  he  has,  Mr.  Detective — for 
books,  he  says." 

"  For  books  ?  Surely  he  is  hardly  the 
man,  by  your  description,  to  do  much  read< 
ing." 

'*  He  is  irregular,  sir,  off  and  on.  He  is 
a  medical  student,  I  believe,  or  supposed 
to  be,  and  he  has  a  certain  amount — h'm — 
of  books  in  his  room." 

"  But  did  he  come  and  go  as  he  chose, 
Mrs.  Jessop  ? " 

*'  He  did.  And  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Mr. 
Officer,  and  ashamed  to  say  it — h'm — that 


I" 


DER. 


in  Monday  ?  " 
t  up  early,  as 
It  he  had  to, 
J  left  for  Lon- 


to  fetch  him. 
»oni,  and  then 


— h'm— a  big 
detective — for 

is  hardly  the 
lo  much  read< 

td  on.  He  is 
,  or  supposed 
lount — h'm — 

»  as  he  chose, 

'  to  say,  Mr. 
it— h'm— that 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  135 

I  allowed  Miss  Raynell  to  have  the  latch- 
key of  this  house.  It's  a  thing  1  have  never 
done  before,  and  a  thing  I  shall  never  do 
again,  but  she  is  not  a  good — h'm — woman 
to  contradict,  and  besides,  she  pays  extra 
for  it." 

"  How  much  did  she  pay,  Mrs.  Jessop, 
for  that  privilege  ?  " 

'*  Five  shillings  a  week,  sir,  and  I  very 
much  fear  she  sometimes  gives  the  key  to 
her  nephews." 

"  Was  that  like  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  she's  contrary  and  indulgent, 
alternately — there's  no  saying." 

I  have  given  this  conversation  in  as  few 
words  as  possible,  cutting  down  Mrs.  Jes- 
sop's  elucubrations  wherever  I  could.  It 
was  a  fatiguing  conversation,  for  the  old  lady 
was  very  deaf  and  decrepit,  and  hardly 
ever  understood  me  at  once.  Still,  we 
managed  to  flounder  through  it  somehow, 
and  the  facts  it  revealed  to  me  were  impor- 
tant enough.  It  gave  me,  as  it  were,  the 
whole  mis-m-sdne  of  the  murder. 


l^- 


IHH 


M 


w 


'■'U: 

f 


136  T//E  BLACKHOX  MITRDER. 

1  sent  for  the  maid  and  questioned  her ; 
but  that  was  useless.  The  maid  knew 
nothing.  She  had  left  the  house  on  Sun- 
day night  before  Philip  entered  it,  and  when 
she  came  back  on  Monday  morning,  Miss 
Raynell  had  already  disappeared.  I  only 
learnt  from  her  that  the  black  box  had  been 
extremely  heavy.  The  cabman  had  sworn 
over  it  as  he  dragged  it  on  to  the  top  of  his 

cab.     Philip  Harvey  had  merely  said, 

«  Yes,  it  is  heavy.     It  is  full  of  books." 
She  had  taken  in  Mr.  Philip's  breakfast 
at  half-past  eight  when  he  rang.     She  had 
admitted   Mr.  Austin  about  half-an-hour 
earlier.     Mr.  Austin  had  gone  in  to  his 
brother.     When  she  brought'  in  the  break- 
fast, Mr.  Philip  was  up  and  dressed.     Mr. 
Austin  inquired  about  his  aunt,  and  she  had 
told  him  that  Miss  Raynell  had  left  an  hour 
ago  for  London.    While  she  was  in  the 
room  Mr.  Austin  had  said,   "  So  your  box 
is  packed  ?  "  and  Mr.  Philip  had  answered, 
«  Of  course  it  is ;  not  a  book  left  in  the 
place.     I'm  glad  you  found  the  key,  or 


^stioned  her ; 
maid  knew 
)use  on  Sun- 
i  it,  and  when 
lorning,  Miss 
red.  I  only 
box  had  been 
an  had  sworn 
the  top  of  his 

rely  said, 

all  of  books." 
lip's  breakfast 
ng.     She  had 
:  half-an-hour 
one  in  to  his 
•  in  the  break- 
iressed.     Mr. 
It,  and  she  had 
ad  left  an  hour 
he  was  in  the 
"  So  your  box 
had  answered, 
)ok  left  in  the 
d  the  key,  or 


_>- 


THE  B LACK-BOX  MURDER.  .137 

what  should  I  have  done  ?  "  Half-an-hour 
later  they  had  rung  for  a  cab.  The  two 
gentlemen  had  moved  the  heavy  box  out 
on  to  the  steps,  and  had  helped  the  cabman. 
Mr.  Philip  had  told  the  man  to  drive  to  the 
station. 

No  one  in  the  house  had  seen  anything 
or  heard  anything  of  the  brothers  or  of  their 
aunt  since. 

I  expressed  my  desire  to  see  the  bed- 
rooms. Miss  Raynell's  was  perfectly  neat, 
but  still  it  looked  as  if  the  occupant  had 
left  it  unexpectedly.  All  the  toilet  articles 
were  on  the  table  or  in  its  drawers. 

"Do  you  know  whether  a  bonnet  and 
shawl  of  Miss  Raynell's  are  missing  ?  "  I 
said  to  the  landlady. 

Mrs.  Jessop  could  not  tell,  "her  mind 
being  above  such  petty  spying ; "  but  the 
maid  assured  me  that  Miss  Raynell  pos- 
sessed but  one  bonnet,  and  one  round  black 
straw  hat  for  the  beach. 

In  a  cupboard  we  found  the  straw  hat 
hung  up,  and  the  bonnet  in  a  box. 


■■■ 


I 


!;.9 


>38 


Tff£   BLACK- BOX  MURDER. 


<♦  Lawks !"  cried  Polly,  "  she  must  have 
gone  to  London  without  her  hat." 

"Nonsense,"  I  said  sharply.  "You 
must  have  made  a  mistake.  She  had  an- 
other bonnet,  doubtless." 

The  young  man's  room  contained  nothing 
of  interest.  He  had  taken  his  things  away 
with  him.  I  went  back  to  Miss  Raynell's 
room.  There  was  a  second  cupboard  in 
the  wall.  I  opened  it.  It  was  stocked  up 
to  the  top  with  books— medical,  most  of 
them,  as  I  saw  at  a  glance. 

«  Lawks ! "  cried  Polly  again.  "  And  he 
to  say  he  hadn't  left  a  book  in  the  house  ! 
But  however  did  they  get  here  ?  " 

I  returned  to  the  sitting-room,  mistress 
and  maid  following  nie. 

-'  Mrs.  Jessop,"  I  said— shouted— as  im- 
pressively as  I  could,  "and  you  Mary 
Hopkins,  Miss  Raynell  has  gone,  as  I  told 
you,  to  London  without  leaving  an  address. 
There  is  nothing  in  that,  but  I  can  under- 
stand her  nephew's  anxiety.  She  is  not  at 
her  own  house.     We  must  find  out  where 


ER. 

;  must  have 

It." 

ly.      "  You 

She  had  an- 

ined  nothing 
things  away 
iss  Raynell's 
cupboard  in 
s  stocked  up 
iical,  most  of 

1.    "  And  he 

n  the  house ! 

e?" 

•om,  mistress 

)uted — as  im- 
d  you  Mary 
one,  as  I  told 
ig  an  address. 
:  I  can  under- 
She  is  not  at 
ind  out  where 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER. 


'39 


she  is.  I  have  received  the  necessary  in- 
formation. But  mind  you,  this  inquiry  must 
remain  strictly  private."  I  put  on  a  magis- 
terial air.  "  In  the  Queen's  name  I  bind  you 
over  to  keep  the  peace  and  this  trust.  If 
others  come  about  here  inquiring,  the  less 
you  tell  them  the  better  for  you.  Remem- 
ber, should  a  word  of  all  this  become  public, 
it  must  be  through  your  agency,  for  no  one 
else  is  informed  of  it  besides  Mr.  Harvey 
and  myself.  We  shall  at  once  trace  it 
home  to  you.  Will  you  swear  to  keep  the 
peace  ?  An  infraction  will  involve  an  action 
for  breach  of  confidence.  In  the  Queen's 
name,  swear ! " 

"Oh,  dear,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Jessop, 
trembling. 

**  Oh,  lawk  a  mussy,"  said  Polly. 

I  do  enjoy  humbugging  fools.  "  That'll 
make  it  pleasant  for  the  Scotland  Yard 
men,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  Thank  you,  no, 
gentlemen;  this  murder's  my  little  job,  and 
I've  two-thirds  settled  it  already." 


s 


i 


140 


THE   BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  And  now,  Mrs.  Jessop."  1  remarked. 
«  what  did  your  husband  use  to  say  about 
the  papists  ? " 

It  was  a  little    compensat 
her.     I  spare  the  reader. 


1  owed 


KK. 

I  remarked, 
:o  say  about 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


14* 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE   OLD    NIGGERS. 


One  other  thing  I  gathered  from  Mrs.  Jes- 
sop's  remarks  before  I  left  her.  When 
Philip  Harvey  came  home  on  that  Sunday 
night,  he  had  taken  more  wine  than  was 
good  for  him. 

*'  And  is  Philip  a  left-handed  man,  Mrs. 
Jessop?"  I  asked,  suddenly  turning  as  I 
was  taking  my  leave. 

*'  I  could  not  say,  sir,  never  having — h'm 
—noticed." 

"  And  you,  Miss  Polly  ?  " 

Polly  did  not  know  either.     She  did  not 

think  so. 

"  And  what  am   I  to  say   when    Miss 

Raynell  comes  back  ?  "  asked  the  landlady. 

"  Where  am  I — h'm — to  write  to  let  you 

know?" 


£^^- 


143 


T//E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


"Write  to  Mr.  Austin,"  I  said,  running 
clown  the  steps. 

I  could  not  bear  the  way  in  which  she 
innocently  went  on  speaking  of  the  dead 
woman  as  of  a  person  still  alive. 

I  was  not  dejected  on  the  return  journey. 
On  the  contrary,  I  was  elated.  I  am  an 
easily  impressed  man,  I  fear,  but  still  any 
one  would  have  admitted  that  I  had  made 
enormous  progress.  It  was  not  likely  that 
the  French  or  English  police  would  over- 
take me  now,  although  I  had  no  doubt  they 
were  following  close  on  my  heels.  All  that 
remained  for  me  to  do  was  to  discover  the 
present  abode  of  the  murderer. 

I  had  heard  from  Mrs.  Jessop  that  the 
bed  in  Miss  Raynell's  room  had  been  slept 
in  on  the  last  night  of  her  stay  in  the  house. 
This  led  me  to  conclude  that  the  murder 
had  been  committed  early  on  Monday 
morning ;  not,  as  the  French  doctors  had 
affirmed,  late  on  Sunday  night. 

It  was  evident  to  me  that  Philip  Harvey 
had  returned  home  on  Sunday  night  either 


■^ 


C 


_^- 


URDER. 

I  said,  running 


ay  in  which  she 
ing  of  the  dead 
alive. 

3  return  journey, 
lated.  I  am  an 
:ar,  but  still  any 
that  I  had  made 
IS  not  likely  that 
lice  would  over- 
ad  no  doubt  they 
r  heels.  All  that 
s  to  discover  the 
lerer. 

.  Jessop  that  the 
n  had  been  slept 
stay  in  the  house, 
that  the  murder 
rly  on  Monday 
snrch  doctors  had 
night. 

lat  Philip  Harvey 
mday  night  either 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


'43 


really  the  worse  for  drink,  or  else  pretend- 
ing to  be  so.  He  had  gone  up  to  his  room, 
and  passed  the  n.^ht  there,  and  had  pene- 
trated into  his  aunt's  room  in  the  early 
morning,  when  she  was  up  and  dressed.  It 
was  possible  that  Miss  Raynell  had  even 
drunk  the  gLss  of  milk  herself.  Her  ne- 
phew had  struck  her  down,  and  then  chlo- 
roformed her,  as  his  studies  as  a  medical 
student  would  probably  have  taught  him. 
He  had  then  packed  the  body  into  his  box, 
under  pretence  of  carrying  off  his  books, 
and  had  thus  taken  it  away  to  the  station. 
Some  wonderful  mischance  had  mixed  up 
the  fatal  box  at  Charing  Cross  with  Mrs. 
Simpkinson's  luggage,  and  the  rest  of  the 
horrible  drama  had  developed  itself  before 
my  eyes. 

This  was  my  theory  of  the  murder  as  it 
stood  at  present— on  the  Friday  following. 

I  have  said  just  now  that  nothing  more 
remain  sd  for  me  but  to  find  out  the  abode 
of  the  murderer.  I  must  not,  however, 
forget  one  other  point.     I  knew  nothing  as 


,'*■  ::<:: 


i 


144  ^''^'  li LACK-BOX  MUKDER. 

yet  of  the  motives  which  had  led  to  the 
deed.  As  long  as  I  do  not:  know  the 
motives  of  a  crime,  I  consider  that  crime 
still  altogether  unexplained. 

I  coulc'  arn  nothing  with  regard  to  this 
subject  from  Mrs,  lessop.  Miss  Raynell 
had  not  been  a  Kative  woman,  and  the 
landlady  knew  absolutely  nothing  about 
her  lodeer's  antecedents.  I  must  find  out 
these,  if  possible,  from  the  murderer  him- 
self. I  resolved  to  start  for  Dover  that 
very  evening.  I  felt  that,  in  the  state 
of  mind  I  was  in  at  present,  I  must  meet 
everywhere  with  success. 

Philip  Harvey  had  been  at  Dover  on 
Tuesday.  So  his  letter  showed.  He  would 
probably  have  remained  there,  anxiously 
awaiting  the  return  of  his  box,  which,  as  I 
knew,  Austin  was  unable  to  send  him. 

Would  Austin  warn  him  ?  This  question 
I  could  not  answer  with  certainty.  It  had 
struck  me  that  Austin  had  told  me,  during 
our  interview  at  die  "  Pension,"  where  Miss 
Simpkinson  was  confined,  that  his  aunt  had 


m 


fi. 


KDER. 

lad  led  to  the 
not:  know  the 
ler  that  crime 

regard  to  this 
Miss  Raynell 
roman,  and  the 
nothing  about 
I  must  find  out 
murderer  him- 
or  Dover  that 
;,  in  the  state 
It,  I  must  meet 

I  at  Dover  on 
ired.  He  would 
licre,  anxiously 
ox,  which,  as  I 
>  send  him. 

This  question 
rtainty.  It  had 
told  me,  during 
un,"  where  Miss 
hat  his  aunt  had 


THE  BLACK-DOX  MURDER. 


•45 


been  staying  alone  at  No.  1 7  Marine  Parade. 
He  had  evidently  not  considered  it  incum- 
bent on  him  to  describe  his  brother  as  stay- 
ing with  her,  that  brother  being  only  an 
occasional  visitor.  It  was  only  natural  that 
Austin  Harvey  should  do  all  he  could  to 
save  his  brother  from  the  gallows.  That 
brother  would,  I  felt  sure  of  it,  reach  the 
gallows  nevertheless.  I  had  the  rope  round 
his  neck  already. 

I  took  the  letter  from  my  pocket-book 
as  I  sat  in  the  train,  and  puzzled  over  it  in 
the  hope  of  finding  some  indication  of  the 
whereabouts  of  the  murderer. 

"  The  old  place,  the  old  nigger's  "—that 
was  all.  * 

"  Nigger"  was  probably  not  to  be  taken 
literally.  If  by  any  chance  it  should  refer 
to  a  black  man,  my  task  would  be  very 
much  facilitated.  There  could  not  be  many 
black  men  in  Dover.  But  it  was  much 
more  probable  that  it  would  prove  to  be 
some  nickname,  or  some  allusion  which  I 


^ 


i^ 


146 


r//E  liLACK-liOX  MURDER. 


Jifl 


.^^1 


Mil 
"If 


could    not   understand.      I    must    go    to 
Dover  and  trust  my  luck. 



There  was  one  other  point  which 
remained  unelucidated  in  my  mind.  Philip 
Harvey  had  traveled  from  Southend  to 
London  with  the  black  box  containing  his 
aunt's  body.  Then  why  did  that  box— 
which  had  been  immediately  passed  on  to 
Paris— not  show  evidence  of  that  prelimi- 
nary journey  in  the  shape  of  a  luggage- 
label  of  some  sort,  marked  either  "  Lon- 
don "  alone,  or  "  Southend  to  London  ?  " 

I  did  not  go  straight  on  to  Dover,  but 
drove  to  the  office  first.  I  was  very  glad 
I  had  done  so,  for  I  found  a  letter  waiting 
me  from  Austin  Harvey.  It  had  arrived 
that  morning  just  after  my  departure  from 
Southend. 

*•  Sir,"  said  the  letter,—"  I  feel  more  and 
more  that  ever  since  my  reckless  folly,  or, 
as  it  would  seem,  God's  avenging  provi- 


m 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


»47 


DER. 

must    go    to 


point  which 
nind.  Philip 
Southend  to 
:ontaining  his 
I  that  box — 
passed  on  to 
'  that  prelimi- 
of  a  luggage- 
either  "  Lon- 
London  ?  " 

to  Dover,  but 
ivas  very  glad 
letter  waiting 
t  had  arrived 
leparture  from 

feel  more  and 
:kless  folly,  or, 
^ranging  provi- 


dence placed  us  in  your  hands,  and  at  your 
mercy,  I  have  been  unwise  to  try  and  hold 
out.  You  know  too  much.  You  know 
enough,  however,  to  understand  by  what 
anxieties  I  am  distracted  and  led  wrong. 
I  am  resolved  to  do  my  duty,  come  what 
may. 

"  And  forgive  me  if  after  a  fearful 
struggle,  I  have  decided  that  my  con- 
science commanded,  or,  at  anyrate,  allowed 
me  to  save  one  very  near  and  dear  to  me 
from  a  fate  too  terrible  to  contemplate.  I 
must  confess  my  deed  and  take  the  con- 
sequences. Immediately  after  I  had  left 
you,  I  telegraphed  to  '  Philip,'  warned 
him,  and  bade  him  fly.  By  this  time  he  is, 
I  hope,  in  safety.  God  forgive  me  if  I  did 
wrong,  but  I  /:<?«/// not  help  it.  How  could 
I? 

•*  Do  not  go  to  Dover ;  it  would  be 
absolutely  useless.  You  will  find  no  one 
there.  By  this  time,  doubtless,  you  know 
half  the  miserable  story.  The  remaining 
half— it  is  no  use  my  trying  to  mislead  my- 


mmtm 


T 


148 


THE   liLACKlWX  MURDEK. 


self — awaits  you  at  Southend.  You  know 
that  as  well  as  I  do.  I  shall  remain  here 
in  Paris  and  await  events.  In  judging  me 
take  my  awful  position  into  account. 
Heaven  have  mercy  upon  us  all. 

"Austin  Harvey." 

When  I  had  read  this  letter,  I  walked 
straight  to  Charing  Cross  Station  and  took 
the  train  for  Dover. 

The  only  thing  I  wanted  to  know  at  this 
moment  was :  where  was  Philip  Harvey 
staying,  or  where  had  he  stayed  while  at 
Dover  ?  I  puzzled  over  the  "  old  nigger  " 
in  the  train,  but,  of  course,  I  could  come  to 
no  satisfactory  conclusion. 

We  reached  Dover,  and  I  alighted.  As 
I  walked  down  the  platform,  I  found  my- 
self confronted  by  a  board  full  of  adver- 
tisements, and  amongst  these  stood  out 
prominently  the  grinning  heads  of  two 
turbaned  blackamoors,  it  was  the  adver- 
tisement of  a  small  hotel  called  the  "  Sara- 
cen's Head." 


^ 


DF.R. 

.  You  know 
remain  here 
n  judging  me 
ito  account, 
all. 
I  Harvey." 

ter,  I  walked 
tion  and  took 

)  know  at  this 
'hilip  Harvey 
lyed  while  at 
"  old  nigger  " 
:ould  come  to 

alighted.  As 
,  I  found  my- 
fuU  of  adver- 
se stood  out 
eads  of  two 
^as  the  adver- 
id  the  "  Sara- 


TIIE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


U9 


I  took  a  fly  and  ordered  the  man  to 
drive  me  to  a  commercial  hotel.  I  had 
never  stayed  in  Dover,  though  I  had 
passed  through  it  a  dozen  times  and  more, 
and  I  knew  nothing  of  its  accommodation, 
except  that  the  "  Lord  Warden  "  was  first- 
class  and  expensive.  As  the  man  drove  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  town,  I  bethought 
me  of  the  name  I  had  come  across  at  the 
station.  I  put  my  head  out  at  the  window, 
and  asked  the  fly-driver  if  he  knew  the 
"Saracen's  Head." 

Oh,  yes,  he  knew  it.  It  was  a  sort  of 
first-class  public-house  or  grill-room — a 
restaurant  on  a  small  scale,  with  lodging- 
rooms  upstairs. 

"  That  will  do,"  I  said;  and  so  we  drove 
there. 


ISO 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


PHILIP   HARVEY. 


It  was  rapidly  getting  dark  when  we 
reached  the  "  Saracen's  Head."  Jii"5t  as 
the  cab  drew  up  at  the  door,  a  man  came 
running  hurriedly  out,  the  sight  of  whom 
made  me  shrink  back  into  a  corner.  It 
was  Austin  Harvey.  He  seemed  very 
much  perturbed,  and  passed  on  without 
looking  to  right  or  left. 

All  at  once,  as  soon  as  I  saw  Austin 
Harvey,  the  connection  flashed  across  my 
brain.  **  The  old  nigger ! "  "  The  Sara- 
cen's Head ! "  I  was  amazed  at  my  own 
dulness.  My  good  fortune  had  led  me  to 
the  very  house  from  which  Philip  Harvey 
had  written  his  letter.  There  was  a  big 
black  head,  grinning  away  over  the  door. 

Austin's  presence   here  convinced    me 


OEX, 


k  when  we 
id."  Jii<5t  as 
a  man  came 
yht  of  whom 
I  corner.  It 
ieemed  very 
i  on  without 

saw  Austin 
ed  across  my 

"  The  Sara- 
d  at  my  own 
lad  led  me  to 
'hilip  Harvey 
•e  was  a  big 
er  the  door. 
)nvinced    me 


THF.    Bf.  A  CAT-BOX  MURDER.  151 

that  his  brother  was  also  near.  I  did  not 
doubt  that  I  should  have  found  him,  in  any 
case,  in  a  day  or  two,  but  I  was  none  the 
less  glad  to  save  so  much  time  and  trouble. 

"  So  Austin  Harvey  can  tell  lies  also,"  I 
said  to  myself.  But  immediately  after- 
wards I  reasoned  that  this  was  unjust. 
Doubtless  he  had  declared  his  intention  to 
remain  where  he  was  in  perfect  good  faith, 
and  it  was  only  later  on,  when  his  advice 
proved  fruitless,  that  he  had  hurried  over 
to  save  his  brother  before  it  was  too  late. 

From  all  this  I  could  quickly  draw  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  too  late,  and  that  I 
had  Philip  Harvey  in  my  power. 

The  hostelry  was  a  very  simple  one.  I 
engaged  a  bed,  and  ordered  a  chop  in  the 
coffee-room  in  an  hour's  time.  As  the 
waiter  was  leaving  the  room,  I  said, — 

"  Any  one  staying  in  the  house  at 
present  ?  " 

A  number  of  people  had  been  there 
yesterday,  it  appeared.  At  present  there 
were  not  very  many. 


4 


ijj  THE  ]i LACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  I  met  a  gentleman  this  evening  who  is 
staying  here,  I  believe,"  I  said  carelessly. 
"  A  tall,  fair  man,  rather  sallow.  You 
don't  happen  to  know  whom  I  mean,  and 
if  his  name's  Thompson  ?  " 

It  was  a  wild  shot.     The  waiter  looked 

puzzled. 

"  No,"  he  said  ;  "  there  was  a  gentleman 
in  the  house  who  answered  to  my  descrip- 
tion ;  but  his  name  was  not  Thompson. 
He  was  a  Mr.  Harvey ;  and,  besides,  he 
hadn't  been  out  of  his  room  all  day.  He 
was  in  it  now." 

This  was  all  I  required  to  know. 

•<  That's  not  the  man/'  I  said.  "  It 
doesn't  matter."      And    I   dismissed  the 

waiter, 

Philip  Harvey,  then,  was  staying  in  the 
house,  and  he  was  actually  there  under  his 
own  name.  I  had  expected  to  learn  his 
alias  from  the  waiter. 

I  went  down  to  dinner  and  attacked  my 
chop.  It  was  really  very  fair.  I  felt  in 
excellent  spirits,  and  I  had  half  a  pint  of 


ning  who  is 
I  carelessly, 
llcw.  You 
[  mean,  and 

aiter  looked 

a  gentleman 
my  descrip- 

Thompson. 

besides,  he 
ill  day.     He 

now. 

said.     "  It 
ismissed  the 

itaying  in  the 

ere  under  his 

to  learn  his 

attacked  my 
lir.  I  felt  in 
half  a  pint  of 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


»S3 


sherry   instead  of  my  customary   porter. 
This  inquiry  was  going  to   be  a  success 
for  me.     It  ought,  I  felt,  to  make  my  repu- 
tation.    While  the  French  authorities  and 
the  English  detectives  were  bungling  over 
the  black  box,  clcX  worrying  Miss  Simpkin- 
son,    I    had  got  all    the  threads   of  the 
mystery  into  my  hands.      Philip  Harvey 
could  still  escape  before  I  laid  the  neces- 
sary  informaition    against    him ;   but    the 
family  would  have  to  come  down  hand- 
somely before  I   let  him  go.      That  was 
only  fair. 

As  I  sat  thinking  over  my  sherry  after 
dinner,  dozing  a  little,  perhaps,  in  the  com- 
fortable coffee-room, — I  was  quite  alone 
there, — I  suddenly  found  myself  startled 
by  the  violent  opening  of  the  door.  A  man 
came  in  noisily,  stumbling  forward  as  he 
walked.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  this  w?i 
Philip  Harvey.  He  had  his  brother's  tail 
slender  figure,  and  his  brother's  fair  hair. 
But  there  the  resemblance  came  to  an  end. 
He  had  neither  his  brother's   fresh  com- 


r. 


j 


154  THE  BIACK-nOX  MCRDRR. 

plexion  nor  his  clear  blue  eyes.  W  is  cheeks 
were  sallow,  and  his  eyes  had  a  furtive, 
frightened  look  in  them. 

He  rang  the  bell  violently  also,  and 
began  pacing  up  and  down  the  sanded 
floor.  When  the  waiter  looked  in,  he  called 
for  "another,  hot  and  strong."  I  should 
have  said  he  had  had  enough  already. 

He  had  passed  me  once  or  twice  with 
side-long  glances;  all  of  a  sudden  he 
stopped  in  front  of  me.  like  a  man  who 
makes  up  his  mind. 

"  Can  you  talk  ?  "  he  said.     "  Are  you 
sociable  ?     Damn  it,  in  a  hole  like  this,  one 
must  get  through  the  evening  somehow." 
1  woke  up  immediately. 
"  That  was  just  what  I  was  thinking,"  I 
said,  with  alacrity.     "  I  shall  be  only  too 
glad,  I  am  sure,  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
sir.     Shall  v/e  setde  down  in  this  corner  ?  " 
Philip  Harvey  threw  himself  down  on  a 
sofa  against  the  wall,  and  I  took  a  chair 
opposite  him.  with  a  litde  table  between 


)F.h'. 

His  cheeks 
ad  a  furtive, 

ly  also,  and 
the  sanded 
1  in,  he  called 
r"  I  should 
already. 
3r  twice  with 

I  sudden  he 
J  a  man  who 

1.  "  Are  you 
e  like  this,  one 
g  somehow." 

as  thinking,"  I 

II  be  only  too 
f  acquaintance, 
\  this  corner  ?  " 
self  down  on  a 
I  took  a  chair 
table  between 


THK  BLACK-BOX  AWRDER. 


«55 


us.     The  waiter  came  in  with  a  steaming 
glass  of  brandy  and  water. 

"That  looks  excellent,"  I  remarked 
cheerfully.  "  I  cannot  do  better  than  keep 
you  company." 

Harvey  ordered  the  man  to  bring  a 
second  glass,  with  another  oath.  He 
garnished  lit's  conversation  freely  with 
these  superfluities. 

He  went  on  grumbling  a  little  about  the 
place  and  the  weather  (which  latter  had 
been  very  fine  all  day).  I  tried  one  or 
two  allusions  to  the  public  events  of  the 
moment,  but  he  "  damned  my  politics  "  so 
vigorously  that  I  hastened  to  retreat  from 
that  track.  Not  by  any  means  a  pleasant- 
spoken  man,  this  Mr.  Philip  Harvey.  A 
man  with  a  conscience  not  at  rest. 

"  My  name  is  Spence,"  I  said,  after  some 
more  beating  about  the  bush.  I  consi- 
dered that  preliminaries  had  now  taken  up 
sufficient  time.  •'  Mr.  Spence,  of  London. 
May  I  know  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
spending  the  evening  with  ?  " 


I 


156  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

*'  Yes,  damn  it.     My  name's  Harvey- 
Philip  Harvey— and  I'm  not  ashamed  of 

it." 

"  Indeed,  no  ;  why  whould  you  be  ? 
Might  I  inquire  if  you  happen  to  be  a  con- 
nection of  Mr.  Austin  Harvey,  the  South- 
end clergyman?  I  should  not  ask,  of 
course,  only  something  in  your  manner 
reminded  me  of  him  as  you  came  in." 

'•  The  man's  my  brother,"  said  Philip. 

"  Indeed !  Now,  that  is  very  extraor- 
dinary. I  met  your  brother  in  Paris  a 
week  or  so  ago.  Let  me  see— no,  not  a 
week.  This  is  Friday.  It  must  have  been 
as  recently  as  last  Tuesday.  I  was  quite 
surprised  to  see  him  in  Paris,  and  yet, 
reallv.  I  don't  see  why  I  should  have  been." 

"  Humph,"  said  my  companion,  reaching 
for  a  cigar- light. 

"  And  how  is  your  good  aunt.  Miss  Ray- 

nell?" 

Harvey's  face  turned  white.  He  trem- 
bled all  over.    He  had  the  greatest  diffi- 


RDER. 

ae's  Harvey — 
ot  ashamed  of 

luld     you   be  ? 
en  to  be  a  con- 
vey, the  South- 
d   not  ask,  of 
your  manner 
came  in." 
"  said  Philip. 
\  very  extraor- 
ler  in   Paris  a 
see — no,  not  a 
must  have  been 
r.     I  was  quite 
Paris,  and   yet, 
mid  have  been." 
panion,  reaching 

aunt,  Miss  Ray- 

hite.     He  trem- 
e  greatest  dififi- 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  157 

culty  in  keeping  his  seat.     I  sat  watching 
him. 

*'  Damn  Miss  Raynell,"  he  said  hoarsely. 
*'  I  mean  to  say,  she's  all  right,  the  miserly 
old  scarecrow.  You  seem  to  know  the 
whole  family,  you,  sir.  I  never  heard  of 
you  before." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  you,"  I  said. 
"  You  shouldn't  abuse  Miss  Raynell  on  the 
score  of  economy,  though.  A  penny  saved 
by  her  is  a  penny  gained  by  you,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Philip  Harvey  struck  his  fist  on  the  table. 

"No,  it  isn't,"  he  shouted.  "And  if 
you  knew  as  much  about  the  family  as  you 
think  you  do,  you  wouldn't  have  said  that. 
Austin's  her  heir— always  was.  And  if  any 
one  is  ever  to  have  any  advantage  from 
her  death,  it'll  be  Austin.  And  it  was  in 
my  interest  to  keep  her  alive  as  long  as  I 
could." 

He  lowered  his  voice,  and  said  these  last 
words  to  himself,  but  I  heard  them  dis- 
tinctly. 


I 


Ijg  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

The  news  startled  me  more  than  I  liked 
to  confess  to  myself.  I  had  no  doubt  of 
the  man's  sincerity.  There  was  a  rough 
straightforwardness  about  Philip  Harvey. 
If  anything,  he  was  too  straightforward,  as 
he  certainly  was  too  rough. 

"  Well,  nevp*-  mind,"  I  said.  «  Will  you 
have  another  drink  ?     Let  me  ring." 

"  All  right ;  thank  you,  and  let's  give  up 
talking  rot.  Do  you  play  cards?"  said 
Philip  Harvey. 

"  Some  games,"  I  replied,  not  without  a 
little  hesitation. 

This  was  not  the  most  agreeable  gentle- 
man one  would  care  to  play  cards  with. 

"  That's  right.  Here  you,  Robert,  you 
scoundrel,  get  us  a  pack  of  cards." 

The  cards  were  brought,  and  we  sat 
down  to  play  euchre.  Harvey  played  well, 
but  .he  drank  too  much.  He  took  up  the 
cards  to  shuffle  and  deal,' and  as  he  took 
them  up  and  held  them,  one  thing  struck 
me  for  which  I  had  not  been  prepared. 


than  I  liked 
lo  doubt  of 
ras  a  rough 
lip  Harvey, 
tforward,  as 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


>S9 


As  far  as  I  could  see,  he  was  not  left- 
handed. 


«  Will  you 

•      >» 
ring. 

let's  give  up 

ards  ? "  said 

lot  without  a 


eable  gentle- 
irds  with. 

Robert,  you 
rds." 

and  we  sat 

played  well, 
;  took  up  the 
I  as  he  took 

thing  struck 
en  prepared. 


h—tniirwhu.  -ii-»i»'^— 1 


160 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDBR. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN    AWKWARD  QUESTION. 

We  played  on  for  some  time  in  comparative 
silence.  I  won,  and  this  did  not  improve 
Mr.  Harvey's  temper.  He  began  throwing 
the  cards  about,  and  ordered  another  glass 

of  grog. 

Now  and  then  we  exchanged  a  few 
words    about    the    game.      Occasionally 
Philip  would  mutter  an  oath  over  his  cards 
or  over  any  especial  stroke  of  luck  on  my 
part.     I  looked  across  at  his  skulking  face 
with,  I  fear,  an  ugly  look  in  my  eyes.     I 
hated  the  drunken  scoundrel     Here  was  a 
cowardly  murderer  of  old  women  growling 
and  swearing  at  his  betters.     I  had  but  to 
speak  a  word,  and  the  fellow  lay  in  gaol. 
How  his  hand  trembled  as  he  held  the  cards. 
He  was  half-besotted  with  drink  already. 


mmm 


^R. 


3N. 

comparative 
not  improve 
ran  throwing 
mother  glass 

nged  a  ffew 
Occasionally 
ver  his  cards 
f  luck  on  my 
skulking  face 
my  eyes.     I 
Here  was  a 
nen  growling 
I  had  but  to 
lay  in  gaol, 
leld  the  cards. 
Irink  already. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  |6, 

I  lifted  my  glass.     It  was  still  more  than 
half  full.     I  am  a  temperate  man. 
^      "  As  you  say,  it  is  to  your  advantage 
she  should  live,"  I  said.     "  I   drink  Miss 
Raynell's  health,  and— Miss  Simpkinson's." 
I  sipped  a  few  drops. 

"  Thank  you,"  mumbled  Philip,  without 
touching  his  glass. 
I  hate  a  rude  man. 

"  Miss  Simpkinson,"  I  began  again,  « the 
charming " 

Suddenly  Philip  Harvey  turned  into  a 
gentleman. 

"  I  do  not  consider,  sir,"  he  said  haughtily, 
"  that  our  very  slight  acquaintanceship  au- 
thorizes your  introducing  that  young  lady's 
name  as  a  subject  of  conversation.  Have 
the  goodness  to  choose  another  one.  I 
esteem  Miss  Simpkinson  too  highly  to 
make  her  the  subject  of  a  tavern  jest." 

I  was  slightly  abashed,  but  a  good  deal 
more  irritated.  I  noticed  the  complete 
change  of  manner,  the  change  of  voice. 

n 


■■■i 


Mi 


163 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER. 

«  He  loves  Miss  Simpkinson,"  I  said  to 
myself,  "  and  she  is  engaged  to  marry  his 

brother." 

He  wanted  another  subject  of  conversa- 
tion. I  resolved  that  he  should  have  it. 
What  I  next  said,  I  said  more  from  spite 
than  from  any  better  consideration.  We 
are  all  human,  and  have  our  little  weak- 
nesses at  times. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  you  esteem  her  highly," 
I  said,  as  I  cut  the  cards.  "  But  what  has 
become  of  her  esteem  for  you,  do  you  think, 
since  she  looked  into  your  black  box  the 

other  day  ?  " 

Philip  Harvey  dropped  his  hands,  with 
the  cards  in  them,  and  stared  blankly  at  me 
for  a  moment.     Then— with  a  rapid  move- 
ment—before I  could  realize  what  he  was 
about  to  do,  he  flung  the  whole  pack  in  my 
face.     His  glass  followed  immediately  after, 
still  full  of  grog.     I  dodged  that,  however, 
and  it  went  crashing  into  a  mirror  behind 
me.     Then  the  man  rose  from  his  seat,  and, 


DER. 

on"  I  said  to 
.  to  marry  his 

tof  conversa- 
Duld  have  it. 
ire  from  spite 
leration.  We 
ir  little  weak- 

:m  her  highly," 

But  what  has 

1,  do  you  think, 

black  box  the 

us  hands,  with 
1  blankly  at  me 
1  a  rapid  move- 
:e  what  he  was 
lole  pack  in  my 
imediately  after, 
I  that,  however, 
I  mirror  behind 
am  his  seat,  and, 


rffE  BLACKBOX  MURDER.  x^ 

WithDut  another  word  or  look,  strode  out  of 
the  room  as  best  he  could. 

I  remained  behind,  very  much  ruffled 
and  annoyed.  I  resented,  of  course,  the 
manner  in  which  I  had  been  treated ;  and  I 
resented  it  all  the  more  beca-ise  I  felt  it  was 
more  than  half  deserved,  ^t  had  been 
ruffianly  of  me  to  make  that  cruvie  reference 
to  the  black-box  tragedy,  and,  worse  than 
that,  it  had  been  excessively  stupid.  I, 
who  had  been  so  successful  and  so  wary  till 
now— I  had  given  way  to  a  childish  freak 
of  ill-temper.  In  striving  to  '•  pay  out "  my 
adversary,  I  had  put  him  prematurely  on 
his  guard. 

As  soon  as  I  began  to  cool  down,  I  felt 
that  I  must  now  seek  to  make  sure  of  m" 
man.  The  broken  mirror  rendered  tht. 
much  easier  for  me  than  it  would  otherwise 
have  been.  I  immediately  sent  for  the 
landlord,— a  waiter  had  come  running  at 
the  sound  of  broken  glass, — and  vrhen  the 
landlord  arrived,  I  told  him  that  I  hid  just 
been  most  violently  assaulted  in  his  house 


if 


U 


164  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

by  a  gentleman  with  whom  I  was  barely 
acquainted.  He  did  not  seem  to  consider 
this  of  very  much  importance,  but  he  was 
highly  incensed  at  the  sight  of  the  broken 
mirror.  He  assured  me  the  man  could  pay, 
and  he  started  for  his  room  even  now  to 
make  him  do  so.     I  stopped  him. 

«  The  fellow's  drunk,"  I  said,  *'  and  you'll 
hardly  get  anything  out  of  him  to-night — 
except  abuse." 

"Well,  that's  true,"  said  the  landlord 
dubiously  ;  "  but  I  must  have  my  money, 
all  the  same." 

"  Wait  till  to-morrow  morning,"  I  cried 
hastily,  "and  take  measures  to  prevent  his 
escaping  you  in  the  meantime. 

It  was  a  means,  as  I  saw  at  once,  of 
repairing  my  own  mistake.  I  must  enlist 
the  landlord  as  a  watch  on  my  man. 

"  He's  not  fit  to  speak  to  just  now,"  I 
said.  "And  you're  bound  to  get  your 
money  to-morrow." 

"  There's  a  tiny  bolt  on  the  outside  of 
some  of  my  doors,"  said  the  landlord.    "  I 


"1 


'.  was  barely 
\  to  consider 
,  but  he  was 
f  the  broken 
an  could  pay, 
even  now  to 
lim. 

[,  *'  and  you'll 
im  to-night — 

the  landlord 
e  my  money, 

ling,"    I  cried 

o  prevent  his 

e." 

V  at  once,  of 

I  must  emist 
ly  man, 
>  just  now,"  I 

to   get  your 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  16$ 

find  it  often  comes  convenient  with  cus- 
tomers what's  had  too  much.  There's  one 
on  his.  I'll  just  slip  it  across  in  an  hour  or 
two,  when  he's  asleep.  He  won't  jump 
from  the  second  floor  in  a  hurry." 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  hear  this. 
I  went  up  to  my  room  with  a  lighter  heart, 
but  I  could  not  sleep  much  all  night  for 
thinking  of  that  man  lying  under  the  same 
roof  with  me — lying  with  those  imprudent, 
awful  words  of  mine  rankling  in  his  breast, 
lying  waiting  for  what  the  morning  would 
bring  forth. 

What  the  morning  would  bring  forth !  I 
myself  had  but  a  vague  idea  as  yet  what  I 
should  ask  of  it ;  and  little  did  I  know  what 
an  amazing  discovery  it  held  in  store  for 
me. 


the  outside  of 
landlord.    «I 


i66 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


1:;. 


t 


THE   MISSING   LUGGAGE-LABEL  FOUND. 

I  WOKE  up  next  morning  from  a  restless 
sleep,  into  which  I  had  fallen  at  break  of 
day,  and  saw,  to  my  surprise,  that  it  was 
already  eight  o'clock.  Immediately  my 
thoughts  reverted  to  **  my  prisoner,"  as  I 
had  begun  to  call  him.  Was  he  in  his  own 
room  still?  Of  what  was  he  thinking  ?  Had 
the  landlord,  perhaps,  already  settled  with 
him  ?  I  hurried  on  my  clothes,  and  ran  out 
on  to  the  landing.  My  room  was  situated 
on  the  first  floor  ;  Harvey's  was  on  the 
second,  but  not  over  mine. 

As  I  opened  my  door,  I  heard  Austin 
Harvey's  voice  downstairs,  inquiring  for  his 
brother.  I  heard  the  waiter  answer  that 
Mr.  Harvey  was  still  in  his  room.  No  one 
had  seen  him,  or  been  into  him  as  yet.    A 


ER. 


I. 

L  FOUND. 

m  a  restless 
at  break  of 
,  that  it  was 
ediately  my 
risoner,"  as  I 
lie  in  his  own 
nkinsf  ?  Had 
r  settled  with 
5,  and  ran  out 
was  situated 
was   on  the 

heard  Austin 
ijuiring  for  his 
answer  that 
om.  No  one 
m  as  yet.    A 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  167 

great  weight  was  taken  off  my  mind. 
Austin  Harvey  came  upstairs,  and  I  shrank 
back  behind  my  door. 

As  soon  as  he  had  passed,  I  crept  out 
on  to  the  landing  again.  I  heard  him  call- 
ing to  his  brother,  and  trying  the  locked 
door.  No  sound  came  from  the  other  side. 
I  suddenly  found  myself  trembling  again 
with  the  thought  that  my  prey  might  have 
escaped  me — my  legitimate  prey,  mind 
you. 

"Hew  in  there,"  said  the  waiter.  "  He's 
pretending  to  be  asleep,  sir." 

They  conferred  for  a  moment  in  a  low 
voice,  and  then  both  went  into  the  room 
adjoining  Philip's,  which  was  exactly  over 
mine.  There  was  a  door  of  communication 
between  the  two  adjoining  rooms.  It  was 
locked,  but  the  waiter  had  the  key.  Austin 
threw  down  his  overcoat  on  a  chair  in  the 
unused  room,  and  quickly  passed  through 
a  side-door  into  his  brother's  presence. 

He  had  scarcely  left  the  room  before  I 


a 


168  T//E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

was  in  it.     I  slipped  half-a-crown  into  the 
waiter's  hand. 

"  I  take  this  room,*'  I  said,  in  a  voice  not 
much  above  a  whisper.  "  You  can  move 
my  things  in  presently,  as  soon  as  I  ring. 
It  is  more  airy,  I  fancy." 

And  I  pushed  the  astonished  man  out, 
and  watched  him  downstairs.  In  his  be- 
wilderment he  had  left  the  key  on  the  floor. 
I  felt  that  matters  were  coming  to  a  crisis. 

I  shut  the  door  on  to  the  landing,  and 
locked  it ;  but,  before  I  did  so,  I  had  slipped 
the  bolt  to  outside  Philip's  room,  and  thus 
prevented  egress  in  that  direction.  I  did 
not  dare  attempt  to  re-lock  the  door  be- 
tween the  two  rooms,  and  thus  shut  the  two 
brothers  in  altogether.  They  would  be 
sure  to  hear  the  click.  So  I  locked  myself 
in  with  them. 

From  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  next 
room,  I  perceived  that  Austin  had  indeed 
found  his  brother,  so  that  the  waiter's  state- 
ment had  been  correct.     I  strained  my  ear 


% 


ER. 

ivn  into  the 

1  a  voice  not 
i  can  move 
)n  as  I  ring. 

;d  man  out, 
In  his  be- 
on  the  floor, 
r  to  a  crisis, 
landing,  and 
had  slipped 
im,  and  thus 
:tion.  I  did 
the  door  be- 
shut  the  two 
f  would  be 
icked  myself 

in  the  next 
had  indeed 
aiter's  state- 
lined  my  ear 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  I69 

by  the  door,  but  I  could  not  hear  what 
they  were  saying.     They  spoke  too  low. 

This  was,  of  course,  a  great  annoyance 
and  disappointment  to  me,  but  I  had  to 
bear  it  as  best  as  I  could.  I  took  comfort 
in  the  thought  that,  perhaps,  in  time,  as 
they  became  more  animated,  their  voices 
would  rise  to  a  higher  pitch.  In  the  mean- 
time I  sat  down  beside  the  door,  and  looked 
round  the  bare  room. 

The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  atten- 
tion was  Austin  Harvey's  coat,  thrown 
carelessly  on  a  chair.  I  took  it  up  mechan- 
ically, and,  obeying  the  rule  of  my  profes- 
sion, began  to  examine  it,  and  feel  in  the 
pockets.  I  did  not  expect  it  would  contain 
anything  of  interest,  but,  being  engaged  in 
the  Harvey  case,  of  course  I  could  not 
leave  the  overcoat  lying  there  without 
having  a  look  at  it. 

I  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  did, 
indeed,  contain  nothing  of  any  importance, 


IPW 


lii«MpfiP!PIP 


mi 
W 

ii','. 


1 


170  TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

and  I  ]aid  it  down  again.  I  had  found  a 
pair  of  black  kid  gloves  in  one  pocket,  a 
small  prayer-book  in  another,  and  a  couple 
of  shillings  in  a  card-slit  under  the  right 
breast.  In  the  breast-pocket  on  the  left 
was  a  pocket-handkerchief. 

After  i  had  laid  the  coat  down  I  took  it 
up   again.     The   whispering  in   the  next 
room  continued.     I  had  nothing  else  to  do  ; 
mechanically    I    once    more    felt    in    the 
pockets.     1  drew  out  the  handkerchief  for 
the  second  time,  and,  just  as  I  was  about  to 
replace  it,  some  indefinite  curiosity  tempted 
me  to  plunge  down  my  hand  still  more 
deeply  into  the  pocket.     This  time  I  felt  a 
little  crushed  up  ball  in  one  corner.     The 
pocket  was  an  exceptionally  deep  one.     I 
drew  out  a  slip  of  thin  paper,  which  had 
been  crumpled  up,  and  thrust  down  into 
the  pocket,  and  forgotten  there.     I  flat- 
tened it  out.     It  proved,  to  be  merely  a 
luggage-label,  *'  Southend  to  London." 

"  Southend  to  London."     Not  of  much 
importance.     Still,  that  was  the  very  label 


/-- 


JRDER. 

I  had  found  a 
n  one  pocket,  a 
sr,  and  a  couple 
under  the  right 
:ket  on  the  left 

;  down  I  took  it 
ig  in   the  next 
thing  else  to  do  ; 
re    felt    in    the 
Handkerchief  for 
,s  I  was  about  to 
uriosity  tempted 
hand  still  more 
rhis  time  I  felt  a 
le  corner.     The 
ly  deep  one.     I 
)aper,  which  had 
hrust  down  into 
1  there.     I  flat- 
.  to  be  merely  a 
to  London." 
"     Not  of  much 
as  the  very  label 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  \'J\ 

I  had  missed  off  Philip  Harvey's  box  at 
Paris. 

"  Southend  to  London."  How  came  this 
paper  forgotten  in  a  recess  of  Austin  Har- 
vey's coat  ? 

The  explanation  seemed  easy  enough. 
It  was  a  label  from  some  pi'ce  of  luggage 
of  his.  Living  in  Southend,  as  he  did,  he 
must  have  come  up  to  London  a  score  of 

times. 

Satisfactory  as  the  explanation  was,  it 

did  not  satisfy  me. 

While  I  still  sat  staring  at  the  luggage- 
label,  exactly  the  thing  I  had  hoped  for 
came  to  pass.  Philip  Harvey's  voice  rose 
in  the  heat  of  the  discussion. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  did  it,"  he  said  em- 
phatically. "  Whatever  you  may  say,  I 
catj't  believe  I  did  it." 

<'  I  ^on't  believe  I  did  it ! "  Did  what  ? 
Surely  no:  the  murder  ?  Was  the  man 
iip-^bie  of  acting  such  a  part  to  his  own 
brother  ? 


i 


■■■mM 


mmmi 


-•"Wfi^^imfmsff^ 


i 


17a 


r//£  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


"  Hush,"  said  Austin  ;  but,  after  a  mo- 
ment, it  was  Austin's  voice  which  rose. 

"  And  therefore  must  be,"  were  the  first 
words  I  heard  him  say.  *'  Oh,  Philip,  Phi- 
lip, why  do  you  not  admit  it  ?  For  whose 
profit  are  you  lying  thus?  Once  more, 
does  not  your  own  letter  to  me  in  Paris 
prove  beyond  doubt  that  you  knew  what 
were  the  contents  of  that  horrible  box  ? 
And  now  you  deny  it.  Oh,  Philip,  Philip ! " 

"The  box!"  cried  Philip,  in  a  terrified 
tone.  *'  Don't  talk  of  it !  There's  another 
fiend  in  this  house  who  pursues  m^  v  iih 
that  box.  No,  I  swear  that  before  you 
forced  your  way  in  here  this  minute,  I  had 
no  idea  what  there  was  in  my  box — good 
heavens  !  I  can't  believe  it  even  now — 
the  dead  body  of  Aunt  Elizabeth  !  I  don't 
believe  it,  Austin.  You're  fooling  me. 
She's  told  you  what  happened  on  Sunday 
night,  and  you're  trying  to  frighten  me  into 
saying  I'm  sorry.  Well,  I  am  sorry.  But 
her  dead  body  in  the  box !     I  won't  believe 


^flii 


/ 


DER. 

:,  after  a  mo- 
hich  rose, 
were  the  first 
1,  Philip,  Phi- 
'     For  whose 
Once  more, 
me  in   Paris 
Du  knew  what 
orrible  box  ? 
hilip,  Philip!" 
in  a  terrified 
here's  another 
•sues  vc't  vv'iih 
it  before  you 
minute,  I  had 
ly  box — good 
:  even  now — 
)eth  !     I  don't 
;   fooling   me. 
ed  on  Sunday 
ghten  me  into 
m  sorry.     But 
I  won't  believe 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  173 

it.     Poor  old  creature !— poor,  stingy,  cross 

old  thing!" 

And,  to  my  unbounded  surprise,  the 
rough  fellow  burst  into  quite  a  passion  of 

weeping. 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Then  Austin 
said,  distinctly  and  impressively,  in  a  cold 
voice,  not  like  his  usual  genial  tones, — 

"You  killed  her  that  Sunday  night, 
Philip.  You  know  you  did.  Dare  you,  in 
the  sight  of  heaven,  before  the  memory  of 
our  dead  parents— dare  you  deny  that  you 
struck  her  down  on  that  Sunday  night  ?  " 

I  pressed  my  head  against  the  panel.  I 
listened  for  the  answer  in  a  tremble  of 
suspense.  It  came,  but,  in  spite  of  all  my 
straining,  I  could  not  catch  it.  There  was 
a  long  pause.  I  ground  my  teeth  with 
impotent  disappointment.  Presendy,  how- 
ever, Austin  spoke  audibly  again,  and  I 
gathered  something  of  Philip's  answer  from 
what  I  now  heard  his  brother  say. 

"  Then,  if  you  are  not  unwilling  to  deny 
that  first  horrible  point,"  said  Austin,"  why. 


»74 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


in  the  name  of  madness,  do  you  deny  the 
rest?" 

"  I  admit  what  I  remember,"  cried  Philip 
excitedly ;  "  I  won't  admit  any  more." 

'*  You  will  not  deny  that  you  were  drunk 
on  that  night  ?  " 

*'  No,"  said  Philip  sturdily. 

"  Too  drunk  to  know  what  you  were 
about,  as  is  only  too  frequently  your  con- 
dition, my  poor  brother." 

As  far  as  I  could  make  out,  Philip  was 
silent. 

"  Listen,"  began  Austin ;  but  Philip  in- 
terrupted him. 

*'  Does  Edith  know  it  all  ? "  he  cried 
eagerly. 

"  Of  course  she  knows  a  good  deal,"  said 
Austin.  *•  You  cannot  deny  that  you  have 
repeatedly  declared  you  would  do  the  old 
woman  some  mischief  if  she  bothered  you 
any  longer  about  your — your  habits.  You 
have  said  so  to  Edith." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Philip  ;  "  in  fun." 

'*  Very  well,"  continued  Austin.     "  On 


rRDER. 

•  you  deny  the 

2r,"  cried  Philip 
my  more." 
/ou  were  drunk 

r. 

/hat  you  were 
:ntly  your  con- 
out,  Philip  was 
but  Philip  in- 
all?"  he   cried 

jood  deal,"  said 
{ that  you  have 
Duld  do  the  old 
:  bothered  you 
ir  habits.     You 

"  in  fun." 
Austin.     "  On 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


»7S 


Sunday  night  you  come  home  drunk ;  you 
have  words  with  aunt ;  you  push  her  out 
of  your  room.     All  this  you  admit  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip  again— quite  loud. 

"  You  are  alone  with  her  all  night. 
Next  morning  she  has  disappeared.  We 
leave  the  house  together,  and  a  few  hours 
later  the  body  is  found  in  your  trunk. 
This  is  a  fact,  at  anyrate,  whether  you 
admit  it  or  not." 

Philip  was  silent  again. 

*'  And  now  you  deny  that  you  put  it 
there.  Yet  you  knew  it  was  there,  for 
your  letter  to  me  proves  that." 

'*  Austin,"  said  Philip  hoarsely,  "  I 
always  used  to  love  and  honor  you  as  an 
elder  brother,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  remem- 
ber, with  all  my  faults— God  knows  there 
are  plenty  of  them  ! — I  have  never  told  a 
lie  in  my  life.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  never 
knew  of  Aunt  Elizabeth's  death  till  you 
came  into  this  room  this  morning." 

"  Then,"  said  Austin  roughly,  "  why  did 
you  write  me  that  letter  to  Paris  ?  " 


II 


I 


,^  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Again  there  was  a  pause ;  but  at  last 
Philip  spoke  out  distinctly  enough. 

*<  I'd  better  tell  you,"  he  said.  ''  what  I 
remember.  Of  course,  it's  a  little  mixed 
up,  you  know.  But-well.  I  suppose 
there's  no  chance  for  me  with  Edith  in  any 

case,  Austin  ? " 

«  Of  course  not,"  cried  Austin  fiercely. 
«  She's  engaged  to  me.  How  dare  you 
speak  of  it  ?     Didn't  Miss  Simpkinson  tell 

you  so  herself  ?  " 

«  Yes.   I  know.     Only  a  fellow   some- 
times thinks-well,  after  Mrs.  Simpkinson 
told  me,  I  resolved  to  break  off  with  Lucy 
at  the  tobacconist's  all  the  same-     And  I'd 
told  her,  and  written  to  her  too.     And  I'd 
had  one  or  two  letters  from  her,  complain- 
ing—poor   thing— and    abusing  me,  you 
know.     Very   violent  letters    they  were, 
too.     And  when  I  came  in  on    Sunday 
night,  my  box  was  standing  ready  packed, 
to  start  next  morning  ;  and  I  had  her  last 
letter  about  me,  with  a-a  portrait  and  a 
lock  of  hair  she'd  sent,  poor  thing,  and  I 


VDER. 

e;  but  at  last 
nough. 

said,  ''what  I 

a  little  mixed 

11,    I     suppose 

th  Edith  in  any 

Austin  fiercely. 
How  dare  you 
Simpkinson  tell 

a  fellow   some- 
^rs.  Simpkinson 
ik  off  with  Lucy 
same-     And  I'd 
;r  too.     And  I'd 
m  her,  complain- 
busing  me,  you 
ters    they  were, 
J  in  on    Sunday 
ng  ready  packed, 
nd  I  had  her  last 
-a  portrait  and  a 
)Oor  thing,  and  I 


ri/E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


«77 


just  threw  the  whole  lot  loose  a-top  of  my 
box  and  shut  the  lid  down  ;  and  I  knew 
they  were  there,  of  course,  and — ^weli,  you 
know,  one  wants  to  stand  well  with  a 
woman,  even  if  she  don't  marry  you,  and 
if  Edith  had  opened  my  box,  she'd  have 
seen  the  whole  lot  of  the  trumpery  at  once, 
and  guessed  the  whole  thing.  I'd  rather 
die  than  have  Edith  think  badly  of  me, 
Austin,  because  I — because  she's  going  to 
be  your  wife,  I  suppose." 

*'  A  very  likely  story,"  said  Austin,  with 
a  sneer.  "  I  hope  you'll  get  the  police  to 
believe  it.  I  can't  answer  for  Edith  or 
myself.  So,  when  you  left  Southend,  your 
box  was  full  of  your  books,  was  it,  with 
those  love  letters  and  tokens  lying  a-top  of 
them?" 

<'  Yes,  by ,"  cried  Philip. 

"And  where,  between  Southend  and 
Dover,  did  the  old  lady  pop  in  .•'  " 

There  was  another  silence. 

"  I  will  accept,  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
that  you  believe  your  own  version,"  said 


I 


^^^^ 


,78  THE  SLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Austin ;  "  and  now  I  will  tell,  you  the  true 
one.  But  first  answer  one  question.  Why 
were  you  so  anxious  to  know  what  had 
become  of  Aunt  Elizabeth?  Why  were 
you  in  such  a  state  about  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  said  Philip, 
«  I  had  had  words  with  her.  I  had  pushed 
her.  It  is  very  possible  I  hurt  her.  Next 
morning  she  was  gone.  I  haven't  seen  her 
since,  and  the  thought  has  been  constantly 
worrying  me  that  I  may  have  injured  her 
more  than  I  thought." 

«'  You  probably  did,"  said  Austin  grimly. 
"Now,  listen   to   me.     When  you   came 
home,  you  were  angry  with  aunt,  because 
you  believed  that,  if  she  would  but  promise 
you  a  share  of  her  money,  Edith  Simpkin- 
son  would  marry  you  instead  of  me.     You 
had  words  with  the  old  lady,  and,  as  you 
say,  you  pushed  her— in  reality,  you  struck 
her  to  the  ground." 

"  No,"  interposed  Philip,  *'  I  did  not." 
"  You  pushed  her,  and  she  fell.     Do  you 
deny  that  ?  " 


DER. 

yoo  the  true 
estion.  Why 
9W  what  had 
'     Why  were 

,"  said  Philip, 
I  had  pushed 
irt  her.  Next 
iven't  seen  her 
een  constantly 
,ve  injured  her 

Austin  grimly, 
hen  you  came 
1  aunt,  because 
uld  but  promise 
Edith  Simpkin- 
id  of  me.  You 
dy,  and,  as  you 
ility,  you  struck 

,  *'  I  did  not." 
tie  fell.     Do  you 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


179 


"  I  did  not  hear  her  fall.  It  was  only 
next  morning  that  I  realized  it  might  have 
been  so." 

"  You  are  prevaricating,  Philip,"  said 
Austin,  with  great  scorn. 

But  I  was  sure  he  was  not.  He  was 
only  trying  to  discriminate,  as  carefully  as 
his  hazy  recollection  would  allow. 

"  You  pushed  her  ?  There  you  say 
your  memory  fails  you.  Let  us  go  on. 
When  you  found  the  old  woman  did  not 
get  up  again,  you  grew  frightened.  You 
tried  in  vain  to  restore  her  to  consciousness, 
and  ultimately,  seeing  u  was  no  use,  you 
unpacked  your  box,  and  placed  the  dead 
body  in  it,  thinking  to  carry  it  away  with 
you  and  get  rid  of  it  somehow.  The  boxes 
were  interchanged  at  Charing  Cross,  and 
the  rest  is  clear  enough." 

*'  I  don't  remember,"  said  Philip. 

"  Do  you  remember  doing  anything  else 
that  night  ?  Is  any  other  explanation  pos- 
sible }     Tell  me,  you  who  boast  you  never 


I 


I 


,8o  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

told  a  lie-tell  me,  have  you  not  often  acted 
as  in  a  dream  in  one  of  your  drunken  fits  ? 
Tell  me,  did  you  not  take  again  of  that 
hateful  syrup  of  chloral  on  that  very  Sun- 
day night  ?     Tell  me." 

«  I  did,"  said  Philip.  "  And  you  wouldn  t 
be  surprised,  either,  if  you  knew  what 
sleeplessness  means  to  a  nervous  man 
when  he's  drunk." 

«  And  can  you  consider  yourself  respon- 
sible under  those  circumstances  ?  Did  not 
you  yourself  admit  to  me,  only  a  week  or 
two  ago,  that  you  saw  things  that  weren't 
in  the  room,  and  did  things  you  had  for- 
gotten next  morning,  when  you  took  an 
overdose  of  chloral,  and  even  when  you 

didn't?" 

Did  Philip  answer  ?     I  could  not  hear. 

« I    will    tell    you,"    Austin    went    on. 

«  There  was  a  man  once  who  came  into 

my  room  in  a  frenzy  of  fear,  because  two 

burglars  had  broken  into  the  house,  and 

.      one  of  them  had  wounded  him  with  a  knife. 


often  acted 
•unken  fits  ? 
rain  of  that 
t  very  Sun- 

^ou  wouldn't 
knew  what 
ervous  man 

irself  respon- 
s  ?  Did  not 
ly  a  week  or 
that  weren't 
you  had  for- 
you  took  an 
:n  when  you 

lid  not  hear, 
in  went  on. 
ho  came  into 
,  because  two 
le  house,  and 
n  with  a  knife. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


i8i 


The  blood  was  pouring  down  his  night- 
shirt, he  said.  I  looked,  but  I  could  see 
nothing.  I  went  into  his  room  with  him, 
but  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  screamed  Philip.  *'  I 
imagined  things  that  were  not,  but  I  didn't 
forget  things  that  were." 

Is  there  much  difference  ?  I  know  a 
man  who  told  me  one  morning  that  he  had 
been  in  bed  and  asleep  all  night,  and  yet  I 
had  seen  him  out  in  the  garden  picking 
roses  in  the  moonlight." 

"  Stop,  stop ! "  cried  Philip. 

"  And  we  found  the  roses  afterwards  in 
another  room," 

Philip  groaned  aloud. 

"  Tell  me  this  only,"  said  Austin  passion- 
ately. "The  police  are  on  us.  The 
whole  thing  is  being  hunted  down.  Tell 
me  one  thing.  What  do  you  believe  you 
did  during  that  night  ?  " 

"After   I  had  taken  the  chloral,  I  fell 

asleep." 


.^issa 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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I.I 


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Ir    £40 


IM 

II  2.2 
12.0 

1.8 


1.25      1.4 

J4 

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7 


PholDgraphic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


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'J3  WIST  IMAIN  STRflT 

'v^ffBSTBR,  N.Y.  14SB0 

(7I«)  •73-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVl/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


I8a  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  And  dreamed  ?  " 
"Yes." 

"  What  did  you  dream  ?  " 
«I  dreamed— oh,  Austin— I  don't  re- 
member. I  dreamed  that  I  was  quarrelling 
with  Aunt  Elizabeth,  I  believe.  But  it's 
all  very  vague  and  uncertain,  and  I  had  a 
terrible  headache  next  morning." 

"And  when  I  joined  you,  the  key  of 
your  door  was  missing.  Philip,  do  you 
remember  where  I  found  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  in  Aunt  Elizabeth's  room." 
"Great  heaven,  what  are  you  keeping 
back  for  ?     How  can  I  save  you  ?    You 
will  be  captured  here  to-morrow— to-day, 
perhaps.      The    London    detectives    are 
working  out  the  case.     And  you— you  will 
not  listen.     You  refuse  to  believe  your 
own  testimony.     Fly,  Philip,  fly  while  you 
can.     Once    more,    I   will    provide    the 
money.      Get    away  to   some  American 

State." 
«  Are  they  really  on  my  track  ?  "  asked 

Philip,  half  starting  up. 


€.-. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


»83 


don't  re- 
^[uarrelHng 
.  But  it's 
nd  I  had  a 

he  key  of 
p,  do  you 

>om." 

>u  keeping 
^ou  ?  You 
iw — to-day, 
ictives  are 
u — you  will 
elieve  your 
y  while  you 
rovide  the 
J  American 

ck  ?  "  asked 


"  On  yours  and  Edith's.  More  than  that, 
Edith  is  in  prison.  They  suspect  her  of 
being  an  accomplice.  Get  away  to  some 
American  State,  and  then  write  from  there 
and  exculpate  her." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this  in 
your  letter  ?  "  cried  Philip.  "  The  letter 
explained  nothing." 

"  Why  did  you  refuse  to  see  me  yester- 
day ?  "  answered  Austin.  "  I  should  have 
told  you  everything  then." 

"And  if  I  stay  here?" 

"  You  ruin  both  Edith  and  yourself. 
Philip,  think  what  it  means — the  gallows. 
In  your  heart  you  know  that  you,  and  you 
alone,  must  have  done  this  deed.  I  am 
willing  to  believe  you  have  forgotten  half 
— we  will  prove  your  irresponsibility — any- 
thing—but fly  first." 

"  Merciful  heaven,  who  else  has  done  it 
if  not  I  ?  "  said  Philip,  in  broken  accents. 
"  I  must  have  done  it — God  forgive  me." 

"  If  you  have  unpacked  your  box,"  said 


r 


f- 


It4  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

Austin  slowly,  "  the  books  must  be  In  the 
house  at  Southend.    You  see  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip  anxiously. 

"  Do  you  remember  unpacking  it  ? 
You  shake  your  head.  Let  us  go,  and,  if 
we  find  the  books  are  there,  will  that  con- 
vince you?" 

"  You  go,  you  go,"  said  Philip. 

«  I  will.  I  will  leave  you  till  to-morrow, 
because  I  fully  believe  we  still  have  so 
much  time  before  us,  but  to-morrow— mark 
me— you  must  leave  England.  We  can 
have  no  convicted  assassins  in  the  family, 

Philip." 

"  Look  for  the  books— the  books,"  said 
Philip.  His  voice  dropped  into  a  murmur, 
and  I  could  hear  no  more. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


iss 


>t  be  in  the 
lat?" 


acking    it  ? 

go,  and,  if 

ill  that  con- 

ip. 

to-morrow, 
:ill  have  so 
rrow — mark 
I.  We  can 
I  the  family, 

books,"  said 
o  a  murmur, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  ASPECT   CHANGES. 

I  COULD  hear  no  more.  I  n  another  moment 
Austin  would  be  going.  I  slipped  round 
and  drew  back  the  outer  bolt.  My  views 
had  very  considerably  changed  since  I  first 
locked  the  brothers  in,  and  my  plans  with 
them.  I  now  intended  to  wait  a  little 
before  I  threatened  Philip.  It  was  certain, 
in  any  case,  that  he  was  not  a  deliberate 
murderer,  and  that  the  crime  had  taken 
place  under  very  different  circumstances 
from  those  which  I  had  considered  almost 
proven  until  now.  I  must  have  another 
talk  with  Philip. 

Austin  would  come  back  for  his  overcoat 
to  the  room  I  had  appropriated  as  mine.  I 
went  down  to  the  one  on  the  first  floor,  and 
waited  till  the  clergyman  passed  my  door. 


'cjrc'.-.WHU-'i^^/'W**^"^." 


T- 


,86  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

He  was  barely  out  of  the  house  when  I  ran 
up,  opened  the  side-door,  and  stood,  with- 
out any  further  warning,  in  the  presence  of 
Philip  Harvey. 

He  was  sitting  on  a  low  chair  by  the 
empty  fir -place,  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 
He  looked  up  as  I  came  in,  and  started 
back  with  an  expression  of  extreme  terror 

on  his  face. 

«  Mr.  Harvey,"  I  said,  "  I  am  a  private 
detective.  I  was  watching  your  case.  Last 
night  I  was  rude  to  you.     I   apologize. 
Last  night  I  believed  you  were  a  murderer ; 
this  morning  I  believe  that,  whatever  you 
may  be,  you  are  not  that.     I  am  come  to 
place  myself  at  your  disposal.     This  mys- 
tery must  be  unravelled.     Let  us  unravel 
it  together.     Neither  will  succeed  alone." 
Philip  Harvey  muttered  some  unintelli' 
gible  reply.     I  found  it  impossible  at  first  to 
get  anything  out  of  him.     He  was  pro- 
foundly distrustful,  and  looked  upon  me  in 
the  light  of  a  detective  and  a  natural  enemy. 


1^ 


r 


when  I  ran 
tood,  with- 
presence  of 

lair  by  the 
1  his  hands, 
and  started 
reme  terror 

Lm  a  private 
r  case.  Last 
;   apologize, 
a  murderer ; 
latever  you 
am  come  to 
This  mys- 
t  us  unravel 
:ceed  alone." 
me  unintelli- 
ible  at  first  to 
le  was  pro- 
1  upon  me  in 
itural  enemy. 


TJfE  BL  A  CAT-BOX  MURDER. 


isy 


Very  gradually  I  got  him  to  believe  that  I 
was  interested  in  his  case  on  his  own  behalf, 
as  indeed  I  was. 

**  You  must  tell  me,  in  the  first  place,"  I 
said  presently,  as  we  sat  by  the  hearth  to- 
gether, *'  what  you  know  about  your  aunt's 
affairs.  You  said  yesterday  that  her  death 
was  no  advantage  to  you  from  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view.  Is  that  absolutely  correct  ?  " 

"Absolutely,"  said  Harvey;  "all  her 
money  goes  to  Austin.' 

"  Was  she  rich  ? " 

"  No.  She  had,  I  believe,  some  nine 
hundred  pounds  a  year  or  so,  and  she  left 
it  all  to  Austin,  as  eldest." 

"  There  never  was  any  talk  of  her  leav- 
ing anything  to  you,  or  of  her  disinheriting 
him?" 

"  Well,"  said  Philip,  "  not  seriously,  I 
think.  I  suppose ^"  he  checked  him- 
self. 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to 
know  everything,"  I  said,  "  if  1  am  to  be 
of  any  assistance  to  you." 


■.■".--'j -myiisw**'---:  .-//t^.- 


lis  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  My  aunt  did  not  like  me  as  well  as 
Austin.    She  disapproved  of  my  wildness. 
I  was  not  as  good  a  boy  as  my  brother, 
but  lately  she  had  espoused  my  cause  in 
one  matter.     My  brother  and  I  were  both 
fond  of  the  same  young  lady.     The  lady's 
mother  turned  me  out  of  doors,  and  chose 
my  brother— he  being  heir  to  my  aunt's 
small  fortune.     My  aunt,  who  was  a  very 
shrewd  old  woman,  got  into  her  head  that 
the  young  lady  and  I  were  better  suited 
for  each  other,  and  that  we,  in  fact,  were 
really  in  love.    She  wished  me  to  marry, 
and  she  had  certainly  often  told  Austin  of 
late  that  she  would  change  her  will,  and 
thus  test  the  young  lady's  affection.     As 
for  the  young  lady  herself,  she  believed  I 
had  forgotten  her  for  unworthy  rivals,  when, 
in    reality,  I  was  seeking  to   drown   my 
sorrow  in  dissipation.     She  turned  to  my 
brother.      They    were    engaged,    chiefly 
through  her  mother's  influence.     My  aunt 
was  very  angry  about  it." 


»•»» 


*irrT""""T'WI1 


1 


P. 

as  well  as 
y  wildness. 
ny  brother, 
ny  cause  in 

were  both 

The  lady's 
,  and  chose 
)  my  aunt's 

was  a  very 
r  head  that 
etter  suited 
1  fact,  were 
e  to  marry. 
Id  Austin  of 
ler  will,  and 
fection.  As 
B  believed  I 
rivals,  when, 

drown  my 
irned  to  my 
ged,  chiefly 
e.     My  aunt 


T//E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


189 


'*  When  were  they  engaged  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Last  week.  At  least,  they  were  half 
engaged.  My  aunt,  as  I  told  you,  did  not 
approve  of  the  match.  She  was  an  old 
maid,  but  she  had  very  strict  ideas  about 
the  holiness  of  the  marriage  vow." 

"  And  so  she  wanted  you  to  marry  the 
young  lady  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

*•  In  spite  of  all  your  misdoings  ?  " 

*'  She  thought  the  girl  would  have  been 
the  making  of  me,  and— damn  it— I  believe 
she  would." 

"  So  when  it  comes  to  it,"  I  said, "  there 
was  absolutely  no  reason  why  you  should 
wish  to  shorten  your  aunt's  days  ?  On  the 
contrary,  you  lose  by  her  death  ?  " 

•*0h,  yes.  One  could  almost  always 
wheedle  something  out  of  her — at  least  I 
could.     Austin  won't  be  so  easily  imposed 

on." 

"  And  yet  you  threatened  her ! " 

"Oh,  that  was  never  intended   to  be 

taken  in  earnest.    Sometimes,  when  she 


■i,-K-.,<#sSn'. 


190  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

preached  me  long  sermons,  I  used  to  get 
into  a  great  rage.  Once  I  said  to  the  young 
lady  my  brother  is  engaged  to,  that  I  would 
do  my  aunt  a  mischief." 

"  And  the  young  lady  heard  that  ?  Ah, 
that  explains  a  good  deal." 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Philip 
bitterly,  "that,  when  the  discovery  was 
made,  she  at  once  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  had  carried  out  my  threat  ?  Ay,  so 
my  brother  says." 

•<  You  can  hardly  call  it  jumping  at  a 
conclusion,"  I  remarked  severely ;  "  what 
else  could  she  -what  else  can  any  one— 

think?" 

*'  True,"  said  Philip,  with  a  groan  ;  "  I 
must  have  done  it.  Not  that  I  ever 
intended  to,  but  I  certainly  quarrelled  with 
her  on  that  wretched  night.  I  must  have 
done  it,  as  Austin  says.  He  is  to  go  and 
find  the  books.  If  he  finds  the  books,  the 
thing's  evident.  I've  done  it.  I  shall  give 
it  up." 


C. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


191 


3  the  young 
hat  I  would 

that  ?    Ah, 

said  Philip 
covery  was 
e  conclusion 
It  ?     Ay,  so 

imping  at  a 
ely ;  "  what 
I  any  one — 

\  groan  ;  "  I 
that  I  ever 
arrelled  with 
I  must  have 
is  to  go  and 
le  books,  the 
I  shall  give 


He  was  talking  more  to  himself  than  to 
me,  but  by  this  time  I  had  got  into  his 
confidence.  He  was  so  utterly  miserable 
and  forlorn. 

What  he  said  now  quite  fitted  into  my 
modified  theory  of  the  murder.     I  had  had 
time  to  think  of  it,  and  I  knew  what  I  knew. 
It  was  evident  to  me  that  I  had  been  right 
from  the  first.     Philip  Harvey  was  the  man 
who  had  done  the  deed,  and  Philip  Harvey 
alone.    And  yet,  could  he  be  said  to  have 
done  it  ?     I  believed  implicitly  in  his  good 
faith.     There  was  no  room  for  a  denial  of 
it.     It  was  evident,  then,  that  he  must  have 
committed  his  crime  while  in  a  state  of 
delusion,  caused  by  the  action  of  the  chloral 
on  a  brain  already  heated  by  drink.     I  saw 
nothing  impossible  in  this  explanation,  al- 
though, of  course,  it  was  out  of  the  common. 
I  had  had  large  experience  of  the  various 
kinds  of  drunkenness,  and  knew  what  very 
extraordinary  phases  can  be  produced  when 
it  finds  a  nervous  or  highly  imaginative 
temperament  to  work  on.     I  had  also  come 


I 
I 


14 


19s  TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

across  a  case  of  what  n;  jst  have  been  irre- 
gular function   of  the  brain  produced  by 
chloral,  and  I  had  seen  a  man  commit 
actions  in  that  condition,  of  which  he  could 
render  no  account  on  the  ensuing  day.     I 
could,  therefore,  accept  Austin    Harvey's 
theory,  especially  after  his  account  of  former 
similar  experiences  in  his  brother's  life.     It 
furnished  the  only  satisfactory  explanation 
of  what  seemed  otherv/ise  an  incomprehen- 
sible difficulty.     On  the  one  hand,  I  fully 
believed  that  Philip  had  killed  his  aunt. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  fully  believed  that  he 
was  unconscious  of  having  done  it.    Some 
explanation  must  be  forthcoming,  and  this 
seemed  a  perfectly  plausible  one. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  I  felt  that  no 
English  jury  would  be  got  to  take  this  view 
of  the  case.  With  a  French  jury,  the  man 
would  have  had  a  fair  chance.  They  would 
have  put  Charcot  into  the  witness-box. 
Now,  -^t.  French  of  to  day  will  believe 
any    psychological  marvel  that    Charcot 


if 


been  irre- 
tduced  by 
n  commit 
[x  he  could 
ig  day.     I 

Harvey's 
t  of  former 
••s  life.  It 
xplanation 
omprehen- 
md,  I  fully 

his  aunt, 
ired  that  he 
;  it.  Some 
g,  and  this 

;lt  that  no 
ce  this  view 
ry,  the  man 
rhey  would 
iritness-box. 
vill  believe 
It    Charcot 


TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  I9J 

swears  to ;  and  for  Charcot,  who  has  so 
cleverly  appropriated,  and  scientifically 
legalized,  all  the  mesmeric  and  magnetic 
"quackeries"  that  no  doctor  believed  in 
till  a  doctor  had  stamped  them — for  Charcot 
there  are  no  marvels  in  the  field  of  psycho- 
logy. It  is  the  impossible  which  is  always 
happening.  But  no  twelve  sturdy,  matter- 
of-fact  Englishmen  would  ever  be  got  to 
believe  that  a  man  might  commit  a  murcicr 
and  not  remember  he  had  done  it.  Be- 
sides, did  not  Philip  foolishly  and  ■  wiestly 
atlmit  that  he  remembered  having  worrls 
with  his  aunt,  and  pushing;  her  out  oi  the 
room  ?  Was  he  in  the  habit  of  pushing: 
her  ?  No,  he  had  never  dared  to  touch 
her  in  his  life  before. 

I  felt  that  Austin  was  right.  The  best 
thing  the  man  could  do  was  to  escape 
across  the  ocean.  That  morning  early  my 
mind  had  been  quite  made  up  to  have  him 
arrested  immediately.  I  had  given  up  all 
idea  of  blackmailing  the  family,  and  had 


13 


,94  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

intended  to  cover  myself  with  glory  by 
publishing  my  own  investigation  of  the  case 
to  the  authorities  and  to  the  world.     I  re- 
solved  now,  not  without  a  severe  pang, 
to  give  all   that    up    also.      I   somehow 
felt  attracted  to  the  unfortunate  assassin, 
drunken  and  dissolute  though  he  was ;  or 
rather,  I  felt  a  kind  of  chivalrous  longing 
that  the  guilty  man  should  not  be  punished 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  guilt.     I  would  do 
my  best  to  save  him,  and  the  family  must 
acknowledge  my   services  afterwards   as 
would  be  thought  fit  by  both  parties. 

"  I  can  satisfy  your  doubt  about  the 
books,"  I  said.  "  They  are  there.  I  have 
seen  them  with  my  own  eyes.  A  cupboard 
in  your  dead  aunt's  room  is  full  of  them." 

I  had  hardly  expected  that  this  bit  of  in- 
formation would  upset  Philip  as  much  as  it 
did.  His  agitation  proved  to  me  how  hard 
he  was  clinging  to  the  idea  of  his  possible 
innocence,  and  how  unwilling  he  was  to 
admit  his  brother's  theory  of  the  murder. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


«9S 


n  of  the  case 
vorld.  I  re- 
(cvere  pang, 
I  somehow 
ate  assassin, 
\  he  was  ;  or 
rous  longing 
;  be  punished 

I  would  do 
:  family  must 
fterwards  as 
parties. 
)t  about  the 
lere.     I  have 

A  cupboard 
all  of  them.' 
this  bit  of  in- 
as  much  as  it 
me  how  hard 
)f  his  possible 
ig  he  was  to 
the  murder. 


"  It's    all    up,    then,"    he    stammered. 

Austin's  right.     I  must  get  away." 

He  stumbled  to  his  feet.  Great  beads  of 
perspiration  stood  out  upon  his  forehead. 

"  Not  now,"  I  said.  "  Where  are  you 
going?     Wait  for  your  brother's  return." 

He  was  near  the  door  already,  feeling 
his  way  like  a  man  in  the  dark.  Suddenly 
he  stopped. 

"  But  will  my  going  throw  the  blame  on 
Edith  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I'd  rather  swing  a 
hundred  times  than  do  a  hurt  to  Edith." 

"  Miss  Simpkinson  is  safe,"  I  said. 
"  They  can  bring  no  real  evidence  against 
her.  And  you  can  exculpate  her  as  soon 
as  you  are  on  the  other  side.  But  you 
can't  get  away  at  this  moment.  The  day- 
boat  is  gone.  Start  for  Calais  this  evening, 
then  get  down  to  Marseilles,  and  from 
thence  try  to  reach  one  of  the  South 
American  republics,  as  your  brother  sug- 
gests." 

"  He  won't  do  it,"  I  said  to  myself,  with 


-V. 


?t 


,96  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

a  sigh.     "  If  the  Government  detectives 
are  only  half  alive,  he'll  never  do  it." 

He  allowed  me  to  lead  him  back  to  his 
chair.  He  was  utterly  broken  and  miser- 
able. He  asked  me  to  ring  for  some 
brandy,  but  this  I  refused  to  do. 

"You'll  want  all  your  nerve,"  I  said; 
"  and,  whatever  you  may  fancy,  you  don't 
get  nerve  from  brandy.  Let's  sit  down 
and  talk  the  matter  over.  You  have  ten 
hours  yet  before  you  start,  and  the  quieter 
you  keep   in  this  room    meanwhile,  the 

better." 

Thus  I  found  myself  unexpectedly  turned 
into  an  ally  of  the  very  man  whom  I  had 
been  hunting  down  for  the  last  four  days. 
I  began  to  feel  quite  an  interest  in  his 
chances  of  escape.  I  could  not  deny  to 
myself  that  they  were  very  small. 

•*  We  must  get  you  away,"  I  said,  *'  and 
you  must  help  us  all  you  can," 


iif 


etectivcs 
t." 

,ck  to  his 
id  miser- 
for  some 

'  I  said ; 
you  don't 
sit  down 
have  ten 
le  quieter 
i^hile,  the 

ily  turned 

torn  I  had 

four  days. 

;st  in  his 

t  deny  to 

I. 

said,  *•  and 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


>9y 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  LATCH-KEV. 


And  so  we  sat  on,  waiting  for  the  evening, 
— it  was  barely  mid-day  as  yet, — and  talk- 
ing of  the  murder.  We  could  not  help 
talking  of  it.  I  started  another  subject 
every  now  and  then,  but  we  always 
reverted  to  the  murder. 

I  learned  from  Philip  Harvey  that  his 
relations  with  his  aunt  had  been  of  a  very 
unequal  character.  When  she  was  angry 
with  him,  she  was  very  angry  ;  and  when 
she  was  fond,  she  was  very  fond.  She 
must  have  been  a  violent,  ill-tempered 
woman,  and  I  suspect  that,  in  reality,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  she  had  had  a 
sneaking  preference  for  the  prodigal,  good- 
for-nothing  nephew,  while  she  lavished  her 
righteous  approval  on  the  respectable  and 


fl 


198  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

sanctimonious  one.      It   appeared  to  me 
that  Philip  had  also  not  been  without  a 
certain  liking  for  the  stiff-necked,  stingy  old 
lady.     He  had  certainly  succeeded  during 
her  life-time  in  extracting  considerable  sums 
out  of  her  closely-sliut  purse  ;  and  I  now 
learned,   for  the  first  time,  that  she  had 
used  the  possible  inheritance  as  a  continual 
incitement  and  excitement  at  every  step 
her  nephews  took.     She  alternated  in  her 
promises  of  favor,  using  them  as  so  many 
means  to  make  the  two  young  men  do 
exactly  as  she  might  think  fit.     It  was,  "  I 
shall  leave  my  money  to    Philip,   unless 
you,"  etc.,  and,  "  If  you  wish  Austin  to 
have  every  penny,  then,  Philip,"  etc.,  some 
times  as  often   as   half-a  dozen    times  a 
week.     It  was  a  dangerous  gamei  to  play, 
and  the  end  had  been— murder! 

There  had  always  been  some  tacit  under- 
standing, all  the  same,  that  Austin,  the 
eldest,  was  to  come  into  the  money,  and 
this  had  proved  to  be  correct.     In  fact,  the 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 


'99 


ed  to  me 
without  a 
stingy  old 
ed  during 
•able  sums 
nd  I  now 
;  she  had 
L  continual 
ivery  step 
ted  in  her 
s  so  many 
y  men  do 
It  was,  "  I 
lip,   unless 

Austin  to 
etc.,  some 
1    times  a 
lei  to  play, 
I 

;acit  under- 
^ustin,  the 
loney,  and 

In  fact,  the 


proof  had  been  given  shortly  before  old 
Miss  Raynell's  death,  for,  when  Austin 
applied  for  Edith's  hand  in  marriage,  Mrs. 
Orr-Simpkinson,  who,  with  all  her  nervous- 
ness and  fussiness,  was  evidently  a  sharp 
enough  woman  of  business,  had  allowed 
her  answer  to  depend  altogether  on  the 
certainty  and  satisfactoriness  of  the  suitor's 
financial  prospects.  She  would  probably 
have  accepted  Philip  if  Philip  had  been 
Miss  Raynell's  heir ;  but  a  preparatory 
flirtation  between  that  gentleman  and 
Edith  had  come  to  an  abrupt  and  violent 
conclusion  a  day  or  two  before  the  young 
lady  accepted  Austin.  Mrs.  Simpkinson 
had  an  interview  with  Miss  Raynell,  in 
which  the  spinster,  bullied  or  cajoled  in 
some  way  or  other,  was  forced  to  confess 
(on  paper)  that  Austin  was  her  heir.  It 
appeared  that  this  was  actually  the  case  in 
accordance  with  her  last  will.  She  had 
made  several  wills. 

"  I  believe  the  poor  old  girl  repented 
afterwards,"  said  Philip,  pulling  away  at  his 


i 


i 


mi 


aoo  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

pipe.     "  All  the  more  so,  for  having  been 
humbugged  by   Mrs.  Simpkinson.      She 
couldn't    bear    being    humbugged.     She 
wanted  me,  I  fancy—    Well,  never  mind. 
She    used    to    talk   threateningly  about 
having  her  own  way  in  the  end." 
"She  did,  did  she?"  said  I. 
"  Indeed  she  did.      But  whatever  my 
aunt's  way  may  have  been,  Mrs.  Simpkin- 
son has  had  hers,  damn  it." 

We  sank  into  another  spell  of  silent 
smoking  after  this,  as  we  were  constantly 
doing.  My  thoughts  reverted  to  my  visit 
to  the  trunk-makers,  and  once  more  I 
asked  myself  whether  the  proofs  were  suf- 
ficient that  the  box  in  Paris  was  Philip 
Harvey's  ? 

"  How  is  it,  Mr.  Harvey,"  I  asked,"  that 
the  makers  are  not  able  to  verify  your 
purchase    of   one    of    their   boxes   from 

them?" 

"Oh,  that  is  very  simple,"  answered 
Philip.  "  I  had  seen  an  advertisement  of 
theirs,  and  as  it  described  just  the  kind  of 


A 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


201 


ivmg  been 
ion.  She 
red.  She 
;ver  mind, 
igly  about 


atever  my 
s.  Simpkin- 

II  of  silent 
I  constantly 
to  my  visit 
ce  more  I 
"s  were  suf- 
was   Philip 

isked,"that 
verify  your 
boxes   from 

"  answered 
5rtisement  of 
t  the  kind  of 


thing  I  wanted,  I  looked  in  one  day  when 
I  was  in  their  neighborhood,  and  bought 
a  box.  I  paid  for  it  at  the  time,  and  took 
it  away  on  a  cab." 

"When  was  that?"  I  asked;  "and 
where  did  you  take  it  to  ?  " 

"  Some  two  months  ago.  I  drove 
straight  down  to  Greenwich,  where  I  had 
— and  still  have — my  lodgings." 

"  A  long  drive,"  I  said.  My  profession 
had  naturally  made  me  suspicious. 

"  Yes,  but  I  had  been  getting  a  number 
of  things,  and  I  took  them  all  down 
together." 

"  And  how  often  have  you  traveled  with 
your  box  since  ?  " 

"Only  twice.  Once  from  Greenwich 
down  to  Southend,  and  then  on  last  Mon- 
day  morning  from  Southend  to  Dover — as 
I  thought.  When  I  got  here,  I  found  my 
key  would  not  open  the  box  I  had  with 
me.  I  thought  something-  had  gone  wrong 
with  the  lock.     I  had  it  broken  open;  it 


.■■;-■  1T«i 


909 


m 

i 


life 


THE  BLA  CAT-BOX  MURDER. 

was  full  of  photographic  apparatus,  which  I 
at  once  recognized  as  Miss  Simpkinson's 
property.     1  had  a  new  lock  put  in,  and 
forwarded  the  box   to   Miss  Simpkinson 
next  morning.     I  wrote  and  telegraphed  to 
my  brother.     1  thought  at  once  that  the 
boxes  must  have  been  exchanged.     I  knew 
Miss    Simpkinson  had   one   exactly  like 
mine,  because  I  had  advised  her  to  get  it. 
I  was  most  anxious  she  should   not  see 
some-some  papers  and  things  I  had  in 
my  box.     But  I  swear  to  you  that  I  had 
no  idea  at  the  time  that  I  had  killed  my 
aunt.     I  must  have  been  mad." 
'       «  Why,  then,  were  you  so  much  agitated 
when  I  first  mentioned  her  name  to  you  ?  " 
*•  I_I   had  a  haunting  fear  about  me 
that   I    might  have  hurt  her.     I   didn't 
remember  clearly,  you  see.     I  knew  I  had 
struck  her,  and  I  had  heard  nothing  of  her 
since  that  night." 

«  And  you  believe  now  that  you  killed 
her  ?  "     He  shuddered. 


tus,  which  I 

impkiiison's 

put  in,  and 

Simpkinson 

egraphed  to 

ice  that  the 

ed.     I  knew 

jxactly  like 

ler  to  get  it. 

jld   not  see 

gs  I  had  in 

1  that  I  had 

d  killed  my 
»» 

luch  agitated 
ne  to  you  ?  " 
ar  about  me 
;r.  I  didn't 
I  knew  I  had 
othing  of  her 

at  you  killed 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  303 

"How  can  I  help  believing  it?"  he 
whispered.  "Austin  says  I  did  it.  You 
say  I  did  it.  And  the  books  are  there  to 
prove  it." 

"  No  one  but  you  can  have  gained 
access  to  the  house  on  Sunday  night 
except  the  landlady?  No  one  had  a 
latch-key  ?  " 

"No,"  said, Philip. 

"  Miss  Raynell  had  one.  The  landlady 
told  me  so." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true.  She  liked  to  go  out 
in  the  morning,  before  any  one  was  up. 
And  she  used  sometimes  to  let  me  have  it 
of  nights." 

"  Where  was  that  key  on  Sunday  night  ?  " 

"  I  had  it,"  said  Philip. 

"  But  you  rang  the  front-door  bell  on 
coming  home  ? " 

"  Yes.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  too— - 
too  elevated  to  remember  I  had  the  key." 

"But  are  you  sure  you  had  it  with 
you?" 


ao4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  Sure  ?     I   took  it  out  of  my  watch- 
pocket  next  morning,  where  I  always  keep 

it." 

This  baffled  me. 

"And  are  you  sure  that  no  one  could 
have  penetrated  into  the  house?  Was 
there  a  chain  across  the  front  door  ?  " 

"  No ;  there  was  no  chain,  but  the  door 
was  double-locked.  What  I  call  the  latch- 
key was,  in  fact,  just  simply  the  door-key. 
There  was  no  latch-key." 

"Humph!"  I  said.  «  Then  you  left  the 
house  in  the  morning  with  your  aunt's  dead 
body  prcked  in  the  trunk.  You  are  sure, 
of  course,  that  you  did  not  look  into  your 
box  in  the  morning  after  waking  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure.     I  wished  to  open  it,  and  I 
looked  everywhere  for  the  key,  and  could 
not  find  it.    Ultimately  Austin  found  it." 
<♦  And  where  did  Austin  find  it  ? " 
«  In  my  aunt's  room,"  said  Philip,  almost 
in  a  whisper.    "  Why  deny  it  ?     My  guilt 
is  sure." 


f!  i^ -:~  -V&ita^ 


DER. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


205 


f  my  watch- 
;  always  keep 


no  one  could 
house  ?  Was 
door?" 
,  but  the  door 
call  the  latch- 
the  door-key. 

en  you  left  the 
)ur  aunt's  dead 

You  are  sure, 

look  into  your 

king?" 

)  open  it,  and  I 

key,  and  could 

itin  found  it." 

indit?" 

i  Philip,  almost 

it  ?     My  guilt 


"  Your  guilt  is  sure,"  I  repeated,  "  as  far 
as  it  goes.  You  left  Southend,  then,  with 
the  box  ?  You  met  the  Simpkinsons  in 
London,  and  you,  your  brother  Austin, 
Miss  Simpkinson,  her  mother,  and  all  your 
luggage,  including  the  two  boxes,  traveled 
down  to  Dover  together  from  Charing 
Cross  ?     Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  No.  Austin  took  us  to  the  station 
only.  The  three  of  us  started  together. 
The  Simpkinsons  and  their  luggage  were 
booked  through  to  Paris.  I  was  only 
going  to  Dover  for  a  week's  fresh  air." 

"  And  you  remember  packing  the  books 
in  your  box  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  put  them  in  on  Saturday. 
I  had  left  the  box  unlocked.  I  lifted  the 
lid  on  Sunday  night  to  throw  in  some 
letters,  and  I  saw  the  books  untouched.  I 
then  locked  the  box  and  corded  it." 

"  What  1  You  corded  it  on  the  Sunday 
night  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  managed  to  do  that  somehow 


Wi 


i  i 


ao6  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

or  Other.     I   was    very  anxious  no  one 
should  see  the  letters  I  had  put  in." 

-  You  are  not  a  left-handed  man,  Mr. 

Harvey  ?  " 
«•  No.    Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 
«  Who  saw  to  the  luggage  at  Charing 

Cross  ? " 

"  I  did.  But  there  was  a  great  hurry 
and  confusion.  We  were  late.  The 
boxes  were  thrown  in  anyhow.^^  There 
might  easily  have  been  a  mistake." 

«  Why,  and  when,  did  you  put  that '  P. 
H.'  on  your  box?" 

Philip  Harvey  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 
«  I  never  put  any  'P.H.'  on  my  box," 
he  said.    "It    was    not    marked    at  all. 
That  accounts  for  the  confusion."^ 

"  You  wrote  P.  H.  on  the  luggage-label. 
Is  that  also  one  of  the  things^  you  did  in  a 
trance  that  night,  I  wonder  ? " 

"  I  certainly  never  did  it  consciously," 
said  Philip  ;  "  but  I  no  longer  know  what 
I  have  done  or  not  done.  I  hardly  know 
whether  I  am  I." 


*%. 


ER. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


fl07 


ous  no  one 

t  in." 

d  man,  Mr. 


5  at  Charing 

great  hurry 

late.      The 

low.     There 

I  put  that '  P. 

le  in  surprise. 

on  my  box," 

arked    at  all. 

ion." 

luggage-label, 
s  you  did  in  a 


I  went  downstairs  to  my  room  and  got 
my  fac-simile  of  the  letters  on  Philip's  box, 
as  also  his  card  to  Miss  Simpkinson,  his 
letter  to  his  brother,  and  his  brother's  letter 
to  me.    I  brought  them  all  down  together. 


}M 


:  consciously," 
rer  know  what 
I  hardly  know 


r 


M» 


TBE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

«  p.  H." 

I  DREW  a  table  up  before  Philip,  and  spread 
out  before  him  my  copy  of  his  initials. 

«  Do  you  recognize  those  letters,"  I  said, 
'<  as  similar  to  such  as  you  would  make  ? " 
«  Yes,"  he    answered :  "  they    are    my 
handwriting.     What  of  that?" 

"They  are  your  handwriting,"  I    said. 
«and  they  are  on  your  black  box  in  Paris." 
I  unfolded  the  letter  and  the  card,  and 
once   more  compared   them.     I  was   not 
sorry  for  the  break  this  scrutiny  made  in  a 
conversation  sufficiently  difficult  to  keep 
up.     I   sat  examining  the  various  letters 
with  a  minuteness  engendered  by  the  want 
of  something  better  to  do.    All  of  a  sudden 
I  broke  out  into  an  impetuous  exclamation. 


WER. 


:x. 


lilip,  and  spread 
his  initials, 
i  letters,"  I  said, 
would  make  ?  " 
"they    are    my 
It?" 

vriting,"  I    said, 
ck  box  in  Paris." 
id  the  card,  and 
em.     I  was   not 
Tutiny  made  in  a 
difficult  to  keep 
e  various  letters 
ered  by  the  want 
All  of  a  sudden 
aous  exclamation. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  209 

I  could  not  help  it.  I  seized  my  com- 
panion's arm  and  shook  it  eagerly. 

"  Have  you  paper  in  this  room  ?  "  I  said. 
«  Ink  ?    Get  them.     Quick ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked   Philip 

dazedly. 

"Don't  ask.  Get  them.  Is  that  an 
inkstand?  That's  right.  Now,  write  down 
your  initials  fifty  times  in  succession,  with- 
out stopping  to  take  breath." 

With  a  wondering  look  Philip  obeyed. 
He  spread  out  the  letters  across  a  great 
sheet  of  paper.  I  watched  him  breath- 
lessly. I  steadied  myself  against  his  chair 
as  he  threw  off  line  after  line.  This  new 
idea  of  mine  might  be  worth  nothing  at  its 
best,  but,  if  the  writer's  hand  swerved  only 
once,  it  was  lost  altogether.  At  last  the 
fiftieth  signature  was  reached.  I  drew  a 
long  breath.  I  caught  up  the  paper,  and 
once  more  scanned  it  eagerly.  I  compared 
it  wilh  the  letter  and  the  curd.  I  com- 
pared it  with  my  copy  of  the  luggage-label. 

14 


a,0  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  that  I  had  seen 

correctly. 

The  letters  on  the  luggage-label  were 
very  similar  to  those  made  by  Philip 
Harvey,  but  they  were  not  exactly  like 

them. 

In  the  case  of  these  letters  the  first 
stroke  was  drawn  past  the  down  stroke 
so  as  to  form  a  blind  loop  in  this  manner,— 


M 


In  all  Philip  Harvey's  P's  and  H's,  this 
flourish  stopped  short  of  the  down  stroke 
thus, —  , 


ii-^ 


The  difference,  slight  as  it  may  appear, 
was  there.  Had  Philip  once  drawn  his 
stroke  through  and  back  again,  I  should, 
of  course,  have  had  nothing  to  say,  but  I 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


an 


had  seen 

abel  were 
by  Philip 
cactly  like 

J  the  first 
»wn  stroke 
manner, — 


id  H's,  this 
own  stroke 


nay  appear, 

drawn  his 

n,  I  should, 

0  say,  but  I 


had  first  noticed  the  peculiarity  in  the  *'  H  " 
of  "  How  jolly  "  on  the  card,  then  I  had 
turned  to  the  letter  and  found  it  repeated 
there,  and  now  I  had  before  me  fifty  P  H's, 
not  one  of  which  showed  the  )0Dfk     It  was 
almost  incredible  that  a  ma#  ##•  had  so 
accustomed  himself  to  makings  iftc  letters 
of  his  name  with  one  unalterable  movement 
of  the  pen,  should  deviate  from  his  rule  in 
a  solitary  instance.     I  laid  down  the  paper. 
"  That  *  P.H.'  on  your  box,"  I  said, "  was 
not  made  by  you.     This  would  not  matter 
much  in  itself,  but  it  was  made  by  some 
one  who  purposely  imitated  your  handwrit- 
ing.    That  matters  more." 

Philip  did  not  care  to  attach  much  im- 
portance to  this  discovery.  He  was  too 
broken-hearted  at  the  thought  of  his  guilt. 
"  Are  you  sure,"  I  ^sked,  "  that  those 
letters  were  not  on  your  box  before  Sun- 
day night  ?  Think  clearly.  It  may  be  of 
the  greatest  importance." 

Philip  hesitated  a  little.      Presently  he 
said, — 


C 


313 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  I  am  quite  sure.  More  than  that,  now 
I  think  of  it,  I  am  quite  sure  they  were  not 
on  the  box  when  I  started  from  Southend 
on  Monday  morning.  I  distinctly  remem- 
ber  seeing  the  old  '  Greenwich  '  label,  and 
wishing  I  had  removed  it.  I  should  have 
noticed  if  there  were  letters  on  it.  How 
were  they  made  ?  " 

"  They  had  been  hurredly  drawn  -  .1  the 
label.  They  were  rather  thick,  and  must 
have  been  plainly  visible  before  the  Paris 
paper  was  pasted  over  them.  The  paste 
very  much  obliterated  the  pencil  marks,  and 
at  present  they  are  rather  faint." 

"They  were  not   there,"    said   Philip, 
*'  when  I  left  Southend." 

"The  conclusion  is  this,"  I  replied: 
«  Some  one  has  thought  it  worth  his  while 
to  mark  your  box  on  Monday  morning  with 
the  initials  of  your  name  in  conscious  imita- 
tion of  your  handwriting.  It  was  that 
person  s  aim  that  the  box  should  be  recog- 
nized as  yours.  He  had  not  realized  the 
possibility  of  the  porters  at  the'  station 


that,  now 
'  were  not 
Southend 
[y  remem- 
label,  and 
lould  have 
it.     How 

iwn  .  .ithe 
,  and  must 
;  the  Paris 
The  paste 
marks,  and 

laid   Philip, 

I  replied: 
■th  his  while 
lorning  with 
jcious  imita- 
[t  was  that 
Id  be  recog- 
realized  the 

the-  station 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  Jifl 

Sticking  the  new  label  over  the  old  one. 
This,  however,  they  actually  did.  Philip 
Harvey,  that  person,  whoever  he  may  be, 
knew  of  the  contents  of  the  black  box." 

Philip  Harvey  continued  to  stare  stupidly 
at  me. 

"  I  have  always  fancied,"  I  continued, 
"  from  the  very  first  that  the  correct  clue 
would  start  from  these  two  letters  on  the 
luggage-label  which  I  discovered  on   that 
Monday    evening    in    the    police-station. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  superstition,  but  there  the 
idea  is.     Perhaps  it  will  prove  correct,  after 
all.     I    begin  to  doubt  more  and    more 
whether  the  story  of  this   murder  is  as 
simple  as  we  have  always  believed  it.     I 
begin  to  doubt  whether  you,  Philip  Harvey, 
are  really  the  murderer.    My  first  duty,'' 
I  said,  after  a  painful  pause,  "  is  now  to  go 
back    to   Paris,  and    once    more   closely 
examine  the  letters  on  the  box.      I  am  not 
enough  of  an   expert;    I  shall   have  to 
consult  one.    I  shall  accompany  you  to- 
night" • 


M^ 


X 


ai4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

"  It  is  a  very  vague  supposition  to  go 
on,"  said  Philip. 

•*  I  do  not  think  so,"  I  answered.  "  Some 
one  must  have  traced  those  letters,  proba- 
bly between  Southend  and  Dover.  That 
some  one  knew  all  about  the  murder.  We 
must  find  out  who  he  is." 


mmm 


7U£  BLACK-aOX  MURDER, 


«5 


ition  to  go 


d.  "  Some 
ers,  proba- 
rer.  That 
rder.    We 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE   BOX   AGAIN. 


That  evening  we  crossed. 

We  had  not  been  able  to  wait  for  Aus- 
tin's return.  Something  must  have  kept 
him,  for,  when  the  moment  came,  he  was 
not  there.  I  decided  that  it  would  be  un- 
wise to  wait  any  longer.  The  police  might 
be  down  on  Philip  Harvey  at  any  moment, 
and  so  I  persuaded  him  to  come  away  with 
me  that  very  night.  I  myself  was  now 
entirely  upset  and  nonplussed.  From  the 
very  first  I  had  fastened  my  suspicions  on 
the  "  P.  H.,"  who  had  turned  out  to  be 
Philip  Harvey,  and  I  had  left  no  room  for 
a  doubt.  Now  I  began  to  ask  myself 
whether  I  had  not  been  mistaken  all  along. 
I  began  to  believe  that,  possibly,  Philip 
Harvey  might  be  altogether  innocent,  and 


M.\ 


91«  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

I  had  absolutely  no  one  to  take  his  place. 
I  sat  stupidly  staring  at  the  letters  I  had 
in  my  possession,  or  at  the  luggage-label  I 
had  that  morning  taken  out  of  Austin  Har- 
vey's overcoat.     How  did  that  particular 
label  come  in  that  particular  place  ?    What 
did  it  matter  ?  The  question  still  remained, 
—Who  was  the  murderer  ?     And  after  a 
week's  hard  work  and  seeming  complete 
success,  that  question  seemed  further  than 
ever  removed  from  a  satisfactory  conclusion. 
We  had  a  terrible  journey.     Philip  was 
nervous,    and   saw    spies  and    detectives 
everywhere.     I  found  it  as  much  as  I  could 
manage  to  keep  him  from  betraying  himself 
a  dozen  times  over  to  a  number  of  perfectly 
innocent  people,  who  would  have  been  much 
at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  their  unexpected 
capture.     I  felt  confident,  from  what  I  saw, 
that  he  was  not  yet  under  any  supervision, 
and  my  only  anxiety  was  lest  he  should 
himself  facilitate  the  work  of  the  blood- 
hounds who  must  be  already  on  his  track. 


I 


1 


e  his  place, 
etters  I  had 
rage-label  1 
\ustin  Har- 
Lt  particular 
ce?    What 
ill  remained, 
A.nd  after  a 
ig  complete 
further  than 
y  conclusion. 
Philip  was 
1   detectives 
ch  as  1  could 
lying  himself 
r  of  perfectly 
^e  been  much 
r  unexpected 
1  what  1  saw, 
r  supervision, 
!st  he  should 
f  the  blood- 
on  his  track. 


TJ/E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  M7 

I  was  most  anxious  to  get  him  out  of  the 
country,  for  I  could  not  help  confessing  that, 
although  I  personally  was  beginning  to 
doubt  his  guilt,  all  the  indications  against 
him  still  remained  in  full  force.  And  then 
1  suddenly  asked  myself  whether,  perhaps, 
after  all,  I  was  helping  the  real  murderer 
to  escape  ?  Altogether,  I  felt  completely 
at  a  loss.  . 

At  Paris,  we  agreed  he  was  to  have 
twenty-four  hours'  rest,  and  to  wait  for  his 
brother,  for  whom  he  had  left  a  discreetly- 
worded  note  at  the  Dover  hostelry.  The 
only  question  was,  would  Austin  come  over 
on  the  Sunday  ?  I  may  add  that,  to  be 
ready  for  subsequent  inquiries,  Philip  had 
taken  a  ticket  for  London  at  the  Dover 
station,  while  1  had  asked  for  the  two  Paris 
tickets,  and  registered  all  the  luggage— not 
much — as  if  it  were  mine. 

When  we  reached  Paris,  we  immediately 
drove  to  a  quiet,  out-of-the-way  hotel,  Philip 
with  many  anxieties  and  sudden  shrinkings 


I 


^:^A(^^a«TWtlB^Ki.Tsl.^,.SK5^^^^S 


ai8  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

into  dark  passages  and  cab-corners.     All 
the  bluster  had  gone  out  of  him.      He  was 
terribly  impressed  by  the  idea  of  the  mur- 
der.    He  quite  believed,  as  far  as  I  could 
make  out,  that  he  had  done  it  in  the  way 
described  by  Austin,  and  he  kept  mutter- 
ing to  himself,  "  The  books !  the  books  !" 
It  was  evident  that  he  considered  the  dis- 
covery of  the  books  in  his  aunt's  cupboard 
as  the  strongest  proof  of  his  guilt.    They 
proved,  more  than  anything  else,  that  he 
did  not  remember  what  he  had  been  doing  ; 
that  he  had  acted  under  the  influence  of 
delusion  on  that  Sunday  night. 

"Nonsense,"  said  I.  "They  seem  to 
prove,  and  a  good  many  things  seem  to 
prove,  that  the  murder  was  committed  that 
night  in  the  house,  and  that  the  corpse  was 
packed  away  into  your  box  in  the  house. 
That's  all." 

"  But  there  was  no  one  in  the  house  all 
night  except  we  two  and  the  landlady. 
You  don't  think  the  landlady  killed  her  ?  " 


DER. 

lorners.     All 
n.     He  was 
t  of  the  mur- 
ar  as  I  could 
t  in  the  way 
kept  mutter- 
the  books ! " 
ered  the  dis- 
it's  cupboard 
guilt.    They 
else,  that  he 
I  been  doing ; 
:  influence  of 
t. 

hey  seem  to 
lings  seem  to 
>mmitted  that 
le  corpse  was 
in  the  house. 

I  the  house  all 
the  landlady. 
,r  killed  her?" 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  «I9 

«  Hardly."  I  said. 

"Well,  there  was  no  one  else  in  the 
house.     There  could  not  have  been." 

"  That  remains  to  be  proved,"  said  I. 

It  was  Sunday  morning — a  warm,  beau- 
tiful morning.  As  soon  as  I  had  deposited 
my  charge  in  comparative  safety,  I  went  in 
search  of  my  old  friend,  L6on  Dubert.  It 
was  almost  a  week  since  I  had  seen  him. 
How  much  had  happened  in  that  time  ! 

I  found  him  in  his  office,  for  it  was  almost 
ten  o'clock  when  I  got  there.  Of  course  he 
was  delighted  to  see  me.  Frenchmen 
always  are  delighted  to  see  you,  even  when 
they  have  made  up  their  minds  never  on 
any  account  to  see  yc>u  again.  For  all  that, 
I  think  he  rather  wished  I  would  leave  off 
meddling  with  the  black-box  tragedy.  I 
believe  he  considered  my  behavior  unpro- 

feiisional. 

«  But,  my  dear  Monsieur  Dubert,"  I  said, 
"  how  far  are  you  ?  Have  you  caught  the 
man  ? " 


1 


i 


<: 


f 


S90 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 


"It  is  no  affair  of  mine,"  he  answered 
petulantly.  "  You  had  better  ask  Fran- 
cois. Your  countrymen  are  busy  with  it. 
They  consider  themselves  wonderfully 
intelligent,  I  believe." 

"  International  rivalries,"  I  said  to  my- 
self.   "  So  much  the  better  for  Harvey." 

I  gained  permission,  through   Fran?ois 
Dubert,  to  see  the  black  box  again.     I  told 
him  frankly  that  I  thought  I  had  an  impor- 
tant clue.     I  trembled  with  expectation  as 
the  commissary  fumbled  about  the  door  of 
the  room  where  the  box  was  kept.    Sup- 
posing I  had  been  mistaken  ?     Supposing 
I  had  taken  my  copy  accurately,  no  doubt, 
yet  not  sufficiently  accurately  to  preclude 
so  slight   an  alteration?     It  was  such  a 
little  thing.     I  rushed  forward  as  soon  as 
the  door  was  opened.     There  stood  the 
fateful  box,  black  and  grim,  with  its  hideous 
unknown  story.     Fortunately  no  one  had 
touched  it.     It  had  been  photographed, 
thiv:  was  all.    The  "  Greenwich  to  South- 


I 


ER. 

^e  answered 
•  ask  Fran- 
3usy  with  it. 
wonderfully 

said  to  my- 

Harvey." 
gh  Fransois 
gain.  I  told 
ad  an  impor- 
cpectation  as 
t  the  door  of 
kept.  Sup- 
Supposing 
ily,  no  doubt, 
yr  to  preclude 

was  such  a 
d  as  soon  as 
re  stood  the 
ith  its  hideous 
'  no  one  had 
)hotographed, 
ich  to  South- 


as  I 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

end"  label  was  turned  towards  me.  I 
examined  it  closely.  Faint  as  the  pencilled 
letters  upon  It  were,  there  would  be  no 
mistaking  their  shape.  They  had  origin- 
ally been  deeply  marked  with  a  soft  lead 
pencil — 


^^ 


I  had  copied  them  correctly.    The  loop 
was  there. 

I  carefully  scrutinized  the  box  once  more. 
I  could  find  nothing  of  any  special  interest 
But  looking  now  by  daylight — bright,  sunny 
daylight— I  found  a  shiny  place,  from  which 
another  label,  insufficiently  attached,  might 
have  dropped  or  been  torn  away.  There 
was,  I  found,  on  wetting  my  finger,  a  slight 
stickiness  still.  That  settled  the  matter. 
A  luggage-label  had  been  affixed  at  South- 
end. It  had  either  dropped  off  or  been 
torn  off  before  the  box  reached  Paris.  In 
all  probability  it  had  been  torn  off.     If  this 


<irjimaHfHi^'>>Mii'-' 


322 


TI/£  BLA  CAT-BOX  MURDER. 

was  the  case,  the  occurrence  would  prob- 
ably have  taken  place  before  the  box  left 
London.  One  of  my  reasons  for  thinking 
this  was  as  follow.     I  give  it  for  what  it  was 

worth : — 

The  porter  who  had  stuck  on  the  "  Lon- 
don to  Paris  "  label  had  neatly  covered  up 
the  old  "Greenwich  to  Southend"  one. 
He  was,  then,  a  most  unusual  porter,  who 
made  a  point  of  tidiness  and  accuracy  in 
these  matters.     If  there  had  been  another 
old  label  on  the  box  at  the  time,  he  would 
probably  have  covered  that  up  also,  instead 
of  sticking  the  great  "  P"  label  on  a  fresh 
place.     I  presumed,  then,  that  there  was 
no  other  labels  on  the  box.    The  argument 
was  not  valuable.     I  did  not  consider  it  so. 
It  sufficed,  with  the  natural  probability,  to 
allow  me  to  presume  that  the  label  had  been 
torn  off  before  the  box  left  London.     I  had 
found  a  label  marked  "  Southend  to  Lon- 
don," pushed  down  and  forgotten  in  Austin 
Harvey's  coat-pocket.     It  was   the  very 
label  that  was  missing. 


DER. 

would  prob- 

the  box  left 

s  for  thinking 

or  what  it  was 

on  the  "  Lon- 
ly  covered  up 
)uthend"  one. 
lal  porter,  who 
id  accuracy  in 
I  been  another 
time,  he  would 
jp  also,  instead 
abel  on  a  fresh 
;hat  there  was 

The  argument 
t  consider  it  so. 

probability,  to 
B  label  had  been 
London.  I  had 
jthend  to  Lon- 
Totten  in  Austin 

was   the  very 


THE  BLACK  POX  MURDER.  ti.% 

Austin  Harvey  had  accompanied  the 
others  to  the  railway  station  at  Charing 
Cross,  and  there  taken  leave  of  them.  Was 
it  he  who  had  torn  off  the  label  ?  And  if 
he  had  done  this,  was  it  he  who  had  marked 
the  letters  "  P.  H."  on  Philip's  box  ?  If  so, 
why  had  he  done  it  ? 

I  hurriedly  took  from  my  pocket-book 
the  letter  which  Austin  Harvey  had  written 
me.  I  went  with  it  to  the  full  light  of  the 
window.  The  letters  were  made  altogether 
differently  from  those  on  the  box.  There 
was  a  capital  H  in  it,  which  looked  more 
like  a  printed  letter.     It  was  formed  thus, 

^2Q^       There  were  loops  everywhere, 

but  not  a  single  blind  one. 

I  got  an  expert,  through  Francois  Hu- 
bert's assistance,  and  the  letters  were  sub- 
mitted to  him.  I  do  not  much  believe  in 
experts  in  handwriting.  Three  of  them 
always  disagree,  and  they  are,  none  the 
less,  always  most  obstinate  in  their  opinion^, 
—just  like  doctors. 


I  g 


I 


.-0 


«t4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDIVA. 

This  man — a  Frenchr  iati,  of  course— had 
only  the  two  letters  to  go  by.  He  declared, 
none  the  less,  most  positively,  that  they 
were  not  written  by  Philip  Harvey.  The 
graphological  difference  between  the  twist- 
ed loop  and  the  straight  stroke  was  far  too 
great  to  render  this  doubtful.  He  declared 
also— perhaps  a  shade  less  positively— that 
they  had  not  been  written  by  Ai.  uin  i^far- 
vey,  because  Austin  Harvey  never  macli  a 
blind  loop.  He  considered  this  even  of 
more  importance  than  the  entire  difference 

of  shape. 

I  paid  the  man,  with  considerable  dis- 
gust, and  started  off  to  see  whether  I  could 
get  admitted  to  Miss  Simpkinson. 


Jk\ 


oursc — ^had 
le  declared, 
,  that  ihey 
•vey.  The 
1  the  twist- 
was  far  too 
-le  declared 
lively — thr't 
\.i.  uin  Hir- 
;ver  macKi  a 
lis  even  of 
e  difference 

clerable  dis- 
ther  I  could 
on. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


9Z% 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MISS  simpkinson's  opinion. 

The  police  had  not  been  able  to  retain 
Miss  Simpkinson  in  close  confinement. 
No  new  accusations  had  been  brought  for- 
ward against  her,  and  the  arrival  of  her 
own  box,  which  had  been  sent  on  by  Philip 
from  Dover,  had  sufficiently  proved  the 
truth  of  the  explanations  which  her  maid 
had  propounded  from  the  first.  The  Lon- 
don detectives  had,  of  course,  set  them- 
selves to  discover  the  person  who  had  for- 
warded the  box  from  Dover,  and  nothing 
would  have  been  easier  had  they  not  been 
hampered  from  the  first,  and  sent  on  a 
wrong  track  by  the  people  at  Dover 
Station.  Mrs.  Simpkinson  had  remained 
for  four  days  in  a  state  of  such  nervous 

1ft 


k 


aa6  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

exhaustion  that  the  doctors  had  forbidden 
her  being  examined  duringf  that  time. 

I    could   not  help   smiling   malignantly 
when  I  heard  that   the  authorities  were 
pursuing  a  bald-headed  old  gentleman  in  a 
white  waistcoat,  who  was  to  land  at  New 
York  on  Saturday.     This  was  the  fault  of 
the  Dover  people.     I  now  saw  what  an 
advantage  it  had  been  to  me  all  along  that 
Philip  Harvey's  name  did  not  occur  on  the 
books  of  the  makers  of  the  box.     Still,  the 
delay  could  only  be  a  question  of  a  few 
days.     Had  the  Government  officials  been 
shrewd,  they  would  have  been  aware  half  a 
week  ago  that  Philip  Harvey  had  slept  in 
the  house  with  his  aunt  the  night  she  was 
murdered.     As  a  fact,  I  found  afterwards 
they    did    know — just    too    late.      They 
turned  up  at  the  "  Saracen's  Head  "  the 
day  after  we  had  left  it,  and  then  hurried 
back  to  Philip's  London  lodgings.     Mrs. 
Simpkinson,    namely,  was    examined  on 
Saturday  afternoon,  and  she  immediately 


«f-. 


forbidden 
time. 

lalignantly 
ities  were 
leman  in  a 
id  at  New 
he  fault  of 
V  what  an 

along  that 
:cur  on  the 
Still,  the 
1  of  a  few 
ficials  been 
ware  half  a 
ad  slept  in 
^ht  she  was 

afterwards 
te.  They 
Head"  the 
len  hurried 
ings.  Mrs. 
amincd  on 
tnmediately 


TfTE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  aa; 

denounced  Philip  Harvey  as  the  probable 

murderer. 

One  thing  I  learned  in  Paris  with  con- 
siderable surprise.  It  was  that  Austin 
Harvey,  who  had  been  so  frank  in  his  con- 
duct towards  me,  had  observed  a  most 
hampering  reticence  in  his  relations  with 
the  authorities.  They  had  dr?.wn  very 
little  out  of  him,  and  that  Uttle  had  required 
an  immense  amount  of  drawing.  They 
believed,  as  Francois  told  me,  that  Austin 
really  knew  very  little  about  the  matter. 
Said  the  commissary  to  me, — 

«  He  is  foreign  to  the  whole  intrigue." 
It  appeared  to  me,  judging  from  what  I 
saw,  as  if  Austin  had,  for  come  reason 
or  other,  wished  me  to  know  as  much  as 
possible  about  the  whole  matter,  while  he 
strove  to  keep  the  Government  detectives 
in  the  dark.  But  what  reason  could  he 
have  for  such  an  extraordinary  course  of 

action  ? 

The   French  police  had  allowed   Miss 
Simpkinson  to  leave  the  "  pension,"  where 


I 


m8  the  black-box  murder. 

I  had  first  found  her,  and  to  take  up  her 
quarters  with  her  mother  in  a  quiet  little 
hotel  between  the  Madeleine  and  the  Pare 
Monceau.     Mrs.    Simpkinson    had    been 
moved  in  on  Friday  night.     The  British 
Embassy  had  remain «1  surety  for  the  good 
behavior  of  the  prisoners,  and  they  had 
expressly  undertaken  not  to  leave  Paris. 
It  was  in  this  hotel  that   I   found   Miss 
Simpkinson,  access    having   been  gained 
with  very  little  difficulty.     I  was  startled 
by  the  first  look  at  her  face.    She  had 
evidently  suffered  much  during  the   last 
terrible  week.     And  no  wonder.    Whether 
she  still  cared  for  Philip,  or  whether  she 
had  only  played  with  him  before  she  chose 
his  brother — in  any  case,  her  position  was 
a  truly  frightful  one.     She  was  engaged  to 
be  married  to  Austin,  and  there  was  murder 
in  the  family.     Had  she  ever  loved  Philip  ? 
He  evidently  believed  she  had.     And  if  so, 
why  had  she  accepted  Austin  ?     She  was 
not  a  woman  to  let  herself  be  influenced  to 
such  an  extent,  even  by  her  own  mother. 


ike  up  her 
[juiet  little 
i  the  Pare 
had  been 
he  British 
r  the  good 

they  had 
ave  Paris. 
>und  Miss 
en  gained 
as  startled 

She  had 
y  the   last 

Whether 
hether  she 
2  she  chose 
osition  was 
engaged  to 
ivas  murder 
/ed  Philip? 

And  if  so, 

She  was 

ifluenced  to 

wn  mother. 


Tf/E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  329 

On  the  other  hand,  she  was  a  woman  who 
could  do  almost  anything  from  a  caprice  of 
offended  pride.  I  trusted  to  this  interview 
for  obtaining  an  elucidation  of  some  of  my 
difficulties. 

She  had  a  haunted  look  in  her  dark 
eyes,  but  she  asked  me  to  be  seated  with  a 
certain  air  of  not  undignified  reserve.  Poor 
girl !  She  must  have  been  consumed  with 
anxiety  to  know  what  I  had  to  tell.  And 
yet  she  seemed  too  proud  to  put  a  question. 
A  woman  of  infinite  possibilities. 

"I  am  here,"  I  said,  as  I  sat  down, 
"with  Philip  Harvey,  Miss  Sinpkinson." 

•*  Indeed ! "  said  Miss  Simpkinson, 
smoothing  her  dress  down.  "And  what 
has  Mr.  Harvey  come  to  Paris  for  ? " 

'<  He  has  come  to  Paris  because  he  is 
flying  from  England." 

"  Why  is  he  flying  ?  "  said  Miss  Simp- 
kinson.   "  And  where  is  he  flying  to  ? " 

'<  Let  me  take  the  last  question  first. 
He  hopes  to  reach  Marseilles  to-morrow 


•y> 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


morning,  and  from  thence  to  get  away  to 
some  American  State.     In  that  case " 

"  Will  he  do  it  ? "  cried  Miss  Simpkin- 
son,  starting  out  of  her  reserve 

"  I  hope  so.     I  expect  so." 

''  Thank  God ! "  said  Miss  Simpkinson, 
and  sank  back  into  her  reserve  again. 

"  Still,  I  must  admit  that  nothing  can  be 
said  with  certainty.  To  tell  the  truth,  my 
dear  lady,  the  police  ought  to  have  caught 
him  two  or  three  days  ago.  Now  they 
have  not  done  so,  nothing  can  be  affirmed 
with  certainty." 

"  Let  us  hope  he  will  succeed  "  said  Miss 
Simpkinson. 

I  saw  we  should  get  no  further  with  all 
this  fencing.  Besides,  it  is  a  thing  I  detest. 
I  attribute  my  success  in  the  one  or  two 
cases  I  nave  managed,  largely  to  my  habit 
of  going  straight  at  the  mark. 

*'  Amen  to  that,"  I  said  coolly.  "  It's 
Paraguay  or  the  gallows  1 " 

Miss  Simpkinson  grew  very  pale,  but 
said  nothing. 


it  away  to 

case 

Simpkin- 


impkinson, 
igain. 

ling  can  be 
;  truth,  my 
ave  caught 
Now  they 
[>e  affirmed 

"  said  Miss 

ler  with  all 
ng  I  detest, 
one  or  two 
to  my  habit 

oily.    "It's 

y  pale,  but 


TffE  BLAC/C-BOX  MURDER.  aji 

"  And  that's  all  the  more  awful,"  I  went 
on,  "■  because  I  fancy  he's  innocent." 

This  brought  her  round.  She  sprang 
up,  her  eyes  ablaze  with  mingled  h9pe  and 
fear. 

'*  Innocent ! "  she  shrieked.  "  How  so  ? 
What  do  you  mean  ?  I  would  give  all  I 
possess  to  know  him  innocent ! " 

I  did  not  answer  her  straightway. 

"  Do  you  then,  also,"  I  said,  '*  believe 
him  guilty  ?  " 

*•  How  can  I  help  it  ? "  she  burst  out. 
"  Whatever  my  heart  may  say,  my  reason 
follows  proof.  Are  not  all  the  facts  against 
him  ?  Is  his  crime  not  as  good  as  proved  ? 
Who  did  it,  if  not  he  ?  Would  any  jury 
acquit  him  ?  " 

**  I  fear  not,"  I  said — Miss  Simpkinson 
winced — "yet  I  tell  myself  he  is  innocent 
all  the  same." 

"And  your  proofs?"  said  Miss  Simp- 
kinson. Of  course  she  was  yearning  to 
have  them.  "  Whom  do  you  suspect }  " 
she  asked. 


*r 


k 


■Jt 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


"  Let  me  ask  you  a  question  first,"  1  said. 
•*  Upon  your  soul  and  honor,  by  ail  that 
you  hold  most  sacred,  do  you  suspect  any 

one?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  in  surprise ;  "  unless  it 
be  Philip.  My  heart  rebels  against  the 
thought,  but  my  brain  just  simply  proves 

it's  Philip." 

We  had  got  much  more  confidential 
already,  you  see.  I  believed  in  her  good 
faith.  I  was  very  sorry  to  see  she  could 
give  me  no  assistance. 

"Excuse  my  seeming  indiscretion,"  I 
said,  "  but  it  would  be  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  me  if  you  could  briefly  inform 
me  what  led  to  your  rupture  with  Philip 
Harvey,  and  your  subsequent  engagement 
to  his  brother." 

Miss  Simpkinson  blushed  scarlet. 

"  I  was  never  engaged  to  Philip  Harvey," 
she  said.  "  It  is  impossible  that  you  should 
ever  have  heard  such  a  story.  I  must  beg 
you  to  change  the  subject." 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


"33 


St,"  1  said, 
y  ail  that 
ispect  any 

"  unless  it 
gainst  the 
ply  proves 

;onfidential 

1  her  good 

she  could 

icretion,"  I 
greatest  im- 
iefly  inform 
with  Philip 
ingagement 

rlet. 

ip  Harvey," 

t  you  should 

I  must  beg 


Too  strong-willed  to  show  her  emotion, 
Miss  Sinipkinson  shaded  her  eyes  with  her 
hand.  The  hand  trembled.  It  was  vain 
to  attempt  to  get  much  out  of  Miss  Simp- 
kinson.  Nevertheless,  before  I  left  her, 
she  had  betrayed  to  me  what  I  wanted  to 
know.  She  loved  Philip  Harvey,  and 
therefore,  presumably,  did  not  care  for 
Austin.  How  incomprehensible  these 
women  are!  Combining  this  discovery 
with  what  Philip  had  admitted,  I  thought  I 
began  to  understand.  Doubtless  Miss 
Simpkinson,  offended  in  her  deepest  and 
truest  instincts  by  some  infidelity  of  her 
scapegrace  lover's,  had  avenged  herself 
upon  him  by  publicly  accepting  his  brother. 
Her  mother's  continued  pressure  may  have 
facilitated — it  would  never  have  prompted 
the  step.  Headstrong  and  passionate  as 
the  girl  was,  I  could  well  understand  her 
resentment  thus  precipitating  her  into  fresh 
misfortune.  I  did  not  believe  she  wanted 
to  marry  Austin.  I  still  less  believed  his 
small  fortune  would  ever  have  tempted  her. 


k 


,34  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

I  could  not  help  wondering  whether  he  had 
been  able  in  any  way  to  determine  her 

behavior. 

«  I  believe  Philip  is  innocent,'  .  -ated 

on  leaving ;  "  but.  as  yet,  I  have  no  man  to 
take  his  place.     My  suspicions  are  of  the 

vaguest." 

Suddenly  I  drew  the  copy  of  the  letters 

«  P.  H."  from  my  pocket. 

«  Is  that  Philip  Harvey's  handwriting  ?  " 
I  asked ;  «'  or  is  it  Austin's  ?  " 

<«  How  can  I  judge  from  two  letters?" 
said  Miss  Simpkinson  immediately.  "  It  is 
absurd  to  expect  me  to.  I  shovM  say  that 
the  shape  of  the  letters  was  '  o's,  but 
that  the  character  of  the  writing  .as  deci- 
dedly Austin's." 


ther  he  had 
ermine  her 

•'  i-ated 
e  no  man  to 
i  are  of  the 

f  the  letters 

ndwriting  ?  " 

vo  letters?" 
tely.  "  It  is 
oi'M  say  that 
o's,  but 
n^  ,.ds  deci- 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER.  iJS 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  FRESH  TRACK. 

Miss  Simpkinson  had  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  Philip.  She  would  probably  have 
penetrated  into  his  presence  had  she  known 
where  to  find  him.  As  this  would  almost 
certainly  have  meant  his  immediate  arrest, 
I  was  careful  to  keep  her  in  ignorance,  and, 
fortunately  for  us  all,  Philip  himself  too  fully 
realized  the  danger  of  his  position  to  re- 
monstrate after  I  had  explained  t )  him 
that  it  could  not  be.  He  really  was  not 
such  a  bad  fellow,  was  Philip,  and  I  began 
to  be  heartily  sorry  for  him. 

I  returned  to  my  hotel  with  all  possible 
precautions.  There  was  now  nothing  more 
to  be  done.  I  had  attained  the  object  for 
which  I  had  come  to  Paris.  My  fac-simile 
had  proved  correct;  the  distinction  was 
there ;  the  letters  on  the  box  had  not  been 
traced  by  Philip  Harvey. 


^ 


t36  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

There  was  no  denying  it.    And,  incre- 
dible as  the  thing  might  seem,  once  admit 
that  the  writing  was  not  Philip's,  and  cir- 
cumstances-my    own     reasoning.     Miss 
Simpkinson's    momentous    testimony— all 
seemed  inevitably  to  point  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  must  be  Austin's.     The  expert 
had  said  it  Tvas  not;  but  I  did  not  think 
much  of  the  expert.    For  the  moment, 
then,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to 
get  Philip  away  to  MarseUles.   Austin  came 
over  in  the  afternoon,— Sunday  afternoon 
though  it  was -ignoring,  in  the  all-engross- 
ing   excitement   of    the    moment,  every 
decency    of    Sabbath    observance.      He 
joined  us  at   our  hotel.     He  could  only 
confirm  my  statement  that  the  cupboard  in 
his  dead  aunt's  room  was  full  of  Philip's 
books— the    very     books    which     Philip 
declared  he  had  packed   in  his  box  on 
Saturday.      Even     the    love-letters    and 
tokens  had    been    found    there.     Austin 
produced  them  as  a  proof  of  his  veracity, 
and  held  them  out  to  his  brother.     Never, 


m\ 


DER. 

And,  incre- 
n,  once  admit 
ilip's,  and  cir- 
soning,  Miss 
testimony — all 
to  the  conclu- 
.     The  expert 

did  not  think 

the  moment, 
3e  done  but  to 
i.   Austin  came 
iday  afternoon 
the  all-engross- 
noment,  every 
servance.      He 
lie  could  only 
:he  cupboard  in 
full  of  Philip's 

which  Philip 
in  his  box  on 
3ve-letters    and 

there.     Austin 

of  his  veracity, 

>rother.     Never, 


THE  BLACK- BOX  MURDER. 


«37 


till  I  saw  Philip's  face  at  that  moment,  had 
I  realized  to  w*r  -  .t  extent  a  man  can  hope 
against  hope.  We  took  the  poor  fellow  to 
the  Gare  de  Lyon,  and  saw  him  start  with 
the  Rapide.  Austin  had  provided  him 
with  the  sum  of  one  hundred  pounds,  and 
had  promised  to  let  him  have  two  hundred 
more  upon  his  arrival  at  Monte  Video. 
We  had  decided  on  the  Argentine  Republic. 
As  the  train  was  beginning  to  glide  out  of 
the  big  station,  Philip  leaned  forward  out 
of  the  carriage  window. 

"  Austin,"  he  said,  '*  I  half  wonder — I— 
Austin,  do  you  really  believe  I  did  it  ? " 

Austin  Harvey  burst  into  tears.  No 
other  word  was  spoken.  The  train  passed 
onward  out  of  reach.  I  got  Austin  away 
from  the  crowd  of  curious  spectators  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

"  Pauvreamif"  I  heard  one  gentleman 
say.    "  His  brother,  no  doubt." 

As  we  drove  towards  the  Northern  Sta- 
tion— for  we  were  to  start  for  England 
immediately  with  the  night  mail — I  asked 


\%\ 


m 


,,,  THE  BLACKBOX  MVKDEK. 

whether  the  police  had  actually  not  yet 
token  possession  of  the  house  m  Manne 
Parade,  where  the  murder  must  have  been 

committed. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Austin ;  "  it  appears 
they  hJve  been  inqui  i  there  yesterday. 
A  Ln  was  watching  the  h-use  as  1  came 

°"  '  He  will  be  arrested  at  Marseffies,"  I 

'^lustin  turned  pale  and   clutched  my 

*TVou  don-t  mean  it  ?  "  he  cried.  "  You 
can't  mean  it."  He  burst  into  tears  afresh. 
He  was  dreadfully  unnerved. 

When  we  reached  the  station,  he  declared 

his  intention  of  getting  the  tickets  for  us 
both.  He  went  to  the  booking-office  and 
asked  for  them.  I  stood  watchmg  h.m  for 
«ant  of  something  better  to  do,  and  because, 
since  that  morning,  1  felt  a  new  interest  .n 
Austin  Harvey.  I  saw  him  take  out  h« 
pocket-book;  1  saw  him  pay  the  money; 

1  saw  him  gather  up  the  tickets  and  the 


l,.,^, 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 


*39 


jr  not  yet 
in  Marine 
have  been 

it  appears 
yesterday. 
;  as  I  came 

arseffies,"  I 


change.  And  he  did  all  this  with  his  left 
hand.  He  was  not  an  invariably  left- 
handed  man,  of  that  I  am  quite  certain ; 
but  now  I  saw  him  with  my  own  eyes  use 
his  left  hand  instead  of  his  right.  From 
that  moment  I  felt  that,  in  spite  of  all  seem- 
ing contradictions  and  impossibilities,  Aus- 
tin Harvey  would  prove  to  be  the  mur- 
derer. 


lutched  my 

ried.  "You 
tears  afresh. 

I,  he  declared 
ickets  for  us 
ig-office  and 
:hing  him  for 
,  and  because, 
ew  interest  in 
take  out  his 
yr  the  money ; 
;kets  and  the 


\ 


THE  BLACK-BOX  UUKDEt. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

POOR  I-UCV'S  EVIDEMCE. 

At  Charing  Cross  we  parted.    Austin  w»s 
had  un«lUngly  enough,  done  v„thouth,m 

on  he  Sunday  already.    I  was  to  wa.t  m 
Loin  fornews  of  Philip's  embarkment 

•Vre  is  no  extradition  ueaty,  you 
know,"  Austin hadsaidtome=««esteamed 

on  through  the  Kent  hop-garde"s  _      ^^ 
soonasweknowheissafe,wewdlg.ve 

^  story  to  the  world,  with  all  its  extenu- 

ating  circumstances.    It  is   Darey 

A   J   foi.    V»ptter    to   tell    tne 
slaughter.      And  far   better 
simple  uuth  than  to  try  m  vain  to  keep  .t 

*"' The  police  wai  save  you  all  trouble  on 

.hat   score"     I  answered.     "They    w.tt 
tLI^Iibrother  publicly  long  beforehe 

gets  to  Monte  Video." 


*1H',I.'« 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


341 


Austin  was 
his  rector 
without  him 
to  wait  in 
mbarkment 
treaty,  you 
i  we  steamed 
dens.     "  As 
we  will  give 
II  its  extenu- 
barely  man- 
to  tell    the 
in  to  keep  it 

all  trouble  on 

"They   will 

ong  before  he 


**  If  you  think  that,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 
said  Austin. 

I  did  not  answer  him.  What  to  do, 
indeed  !  It  was  the  question  I  was  asking 
myself  unceasingly.  The  more  I  watched 
my  man,  the  more  I  saw  that  he  was  only 
very  partially  left  handed.  The  peculiarity 
was  evidently  but  the  remnant  of  a  boyish 
habit,  which  the  man  had  almost  entirely 
overcome.  It  came  out  again  under  the 
influence  of  excitement.  This  accounted 
for  my  not  having  noticed  it  on  the  few 
occasions  when  we  had  been  thrown  to- 
gether. We  parted,  as  I  have  said,  at 
Charing  Cross,  and  I  went  home  to  my 
lodgings.  I  could  do  nothing  at  present, 
and  yet  I  felt  that  I  must  not  rest  till  I  had 
got  at  the  truth.  How  could  Austin  Har- 
vey have  killed  his  aunt  ?  When  ?  Where  ? 
Had  it  not  been  proved  beyond  all  doubt 
that  Miss  Raynell  and  Philip  hai  slept  in 
the  house  on  that  Sunday  night,  and  that 
the  box  with  the  dead  body  had  passed  out 
of  it  on  the  Monday  morning  }    Austin  had 


m 


•^ 


243 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


called  for  his  brother  before  breakfast ;  but 
it  was  quite  certain  that  at  that  hour  the 
murder  had  already  been  committed.  The 
mystery  seemed  greater  than  ever.  I 
began  almost  to  despair  of  ever  seeing  it 
satisfactorily  cleared  up. 

I  worked  it  out  for  myself,  nevertheless, 

<logfg^c<^Iy>  if^^ti'^g^  <is  ^^^  ^s  I  could. 

It  was  not  my  fault  if  I  had  gone  wrong 
from  the  first.  All  the  circumstantial 
evidence  had  closed  in  upon  Philip.  There 
was  not  a  soul  on  earth,  not  Philip  himself, 
not  Miss  Simpkinson — least  of  all  the 
authorities — who  in  any  way  suspected  the 
clergyman.  There  had  been— there  still 
were— no  reasons  for  suspecting  him.  And 
had  I  sufficient  reason  even  now  ? 

It  would  not  be  gainsaid  that,  if  Austin 
Harvey  had  really  murdered  his  aunt,  he 
must  be  one  of  the  most  consummate  actors 
and  unmitigated  scoundrels  in  the  three 
kingdoms.  For  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
labored  hard  to  convince  both  Philip  and 
myself  that  Philip  was  the  guilty  man.  He 


*i-  — 


R. 

ikfast ;  but 
t  hour  the 
itted.  The 
1  ever.  I 
2r  seeing  it 

evertheless, 
luld. 

gone  wrong 
■cumstantial 
lilip.  There 
lilip  himself, 
of  all  the 
.ispected  the 
—there  still 
r  him.    And 

iW  ? 

at,  if  Austin 
his  aunt,  he 
nmate  actors 
in  the  three 
t  that  he  had 
h  Philip  and 
Ity  man.  He 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


343 


had  patiently  striven  to  instil  into  his  bro- 
ther's drink-fuddled  brain  the  theory  of  an 
unintentional  and  almost  unconscious  crime ; 
and,  with  circumstances  and  past  exper- 
iences helping  him  to  a  large  extent,  he  had 
found  the  task  a  comparatively  easy  one. 
I  could  understand  the  way  in  which  he  had 
played  upon  Philip,  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand as  yet  how  he  had  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  committing  the  crime.  About 
the  motive,  which  had  remained  such  a 
puzzle  in  Philip's  case,  there  was  no  diffi- 
culty here.  Austin  must  have  had  reason 
to  fear  that  his  aunt  would  definitely  make 
arrangements  to  bring  about  a  match  be- 
tween his  brother  and  Edith.  The  theory 
that  Philip  should  have  killed  the  old  lady 
in  anger  had  never  quite  satisfied  me.  But 
a  clergyman !  And  such  a  charming,  frank- 
mannered  fellow,  with  his  bright  eyes  and 
kindly  voice.  I  felt  that  I  must  have 
irresistible  evidence  before  I  could  convince 
even  myself  that  I  was  not  on  the  wrong 
track  again.    On  the  other  hand,  I  felt 


<     iK'i;t  ^ 


844 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 


equally  strongly  that,  if  the  charge  wa:J  true, 
the  villain  must  not  escape  me.  Never 
had  craven  wretch  a  truer  claim  on  the 
gallows.  I  must  find  out  where  Austin 
Harvey  had  been  all  through  that  Sunday 
night.  I  must  prove  an  alibi.  Nothing 
ought  to  be  easier,  if  he  was  innocent.  Till 
I  had  settled  that,  I  could  neither  rest  nor 
sleep. 


I  determined  to  start  for  Southend  imme- 
diately. I  had  got  into  London  at  6  a.m., 
and  thrown  myself  on  my  bed  for  a  couple 
of  hours.  I  started  up  again.  By  ten  I 
was  on  my  way  to  the  little  town.  I  tele- 
graphed to  Austin  Harvey,  saying  I  should 
be  with  him  at  five.  That  would  leave  me 
several  hours  free  to  start  with.  I  was 
afraid  of  meeting  him  unawares  in  the 
streets,  and  arousing  his  suspicions,  if  I  did 
not  let  him  know. 

As  soon  as  I  had  sent  my  telegram,  I 
felt  that   I   had  done  a  stupid  thing.    I 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


845 


wa:j  true, 
Never 
on  the 
e   Austin 
t  Sunday 
Nothing 
►cent.    Till 
er  rest  nor 


hend  imme- 
)n  at  6  A.M., 
for  a  couple 
.  By  ten  I 
>wn.  I  tele- 
'insr  I  should 
jld  leave  me 
rith.  I  was 
ares  in  the 
:ions,  if  I  did 

'  telegram,  I 
>id  thing.     I 


recount  this  little  incident,  because  I  am 
anxious  to  describe  everything  exactly  as 
it  occurred.  I  realized  that,  if  I  was  to 
find  out  anything  in  Southend,  my  investi- 
gations must  start  from  the  house  where 
Austin  lived,  and  I  must  find  out  what  I 
could  about  and  from  his  Immediate  sur- 
roundings. To  do  so  it  was  desirable  that 
he  should  be  called  away  from  the  spot 
rather  than  put  on  his  guard  and  requested 
to  remain  there.  I  immediately  sent  a 
second  telegram,  begging  him  to  come  up 
to  London  on  important  business,  and  bid- 
ding him  wait  in  my  rooms,  in  case  of  my 
absence,  till  ten  o'clock  at  night. 

By  ten  o'clock  I  did  not  doubt  I  should 
have  important  business  to  transact  with 
him.  I  got  out  at  an  intermediate  station, 
looked  up  the  time-table,  and  waited  till 
the  train  had  passed  which  might  fairly  be 
presumed  to  be  bearing  Austin  up  to  Lon- 
don. Then  I  got  into  the  next  down  train. 
It  was  three  o'clock  by  the  time  I  reached 
Southend. 


t 


M 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDRR. 


Nothing  was  easier  than  to  find  out  the 
address  of  the  curate  of  St.  Mary  the  Vir- 
gin's. The  first  porter  at  the  station  showed 
me  the  church,  and  from  the  church  I  was 
immediately  directed  to  the  parson.  It 
struck  me  that  he  lived  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  it.  I  little  thought  at  the 
time  that  this  question  of  distance  was  soon 
to  become  of  such  moment.  I  reached 
Austin's  house  after  ten  minutes'  brisk 
walk  ;  it  must  have  been  quite  half  a  mile 
away  on  the  farther  side  of  the  town.  The 
road  in  which  he  lived  was  called  Delacy 
Crescent,  and  his  landlady,  I  had  been 
told,  was  a  Mrs.  Hopkins. 

I  must  be  excused  for  introducing  another 
landlady.  I  cannot  help  myself.  By  a 
strange  coincidence,  all  the  persons  con- 
nected with  this  murder  had  been  living  in 
lodgings  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence — Miss 
Raynell,  the  two  Harveys,  the  two  Simp- 
kinsons.  I  accordingly  found  myself  con- 
fronted with  landladies  at  every  step.  They 
might  have  been  very  useful  to  me,  perhaps. 


} 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


»47 


out  the 

the  Vir- 

showed 

ch  I  was 

rson.     It 

siderable 

t  at  the 

was  soon 

reached 

es'    brisk 

alf  a  mile 

3wn.   The 

;d  Delacy 

had   been 

ing  another 
elf.  By  a 
trsons  con- 
sn  living  in 
!nce — Miss 
two  Simp- 
lyself  con- 
step.  They 
le,  perhaps. 


In  the  got-up  stories  of  crime  they  always 
are.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  my  case,  I 
obtained  no  help  from  them  whatever. 

I  asked  for  Austin  Harvey,  and  heard, 
as  I  expected  to  hear,  that  he  had  gone 
out.  Further  questioning  about  his  prob- 
able movements  revealed  that  he  had 
received  two  telegrams,  and  had  left  the 
house  almost  immediately  afterwards.  So 
far,  so  good. 

Mrs.  Hopkins  was  not  unnaturally  curious 
about  the  telegrams.  I  regretted  that  I 
was  unable  to  afford  her  any  information. 
In  revenge  I  plied  her  with  cautious  ques- 
tions about  the  Rev.  Austin.  I  found  her 
voluble .  The  Rev.  Austin  was,  it  appeared, 
in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a  "model" 
clergyman  and  lodger,  "  quite  the  "  gentle- 
man," and  "such  a  nice-looking,  good 
young  man."  If  anything,  he  had  a  weak- 
ness for  the  softer  sex.  *'  Quite  the  .nan 
for  the  ladies,  sir,"  said  good  Mrs.  Hop- 
kins, ''  as,  in  fact,  every  curate  ought  to 
be." 


%. 


^^' 


^  THE  SUCK-BOX  MVSPBJI. 

The  question  of  the  clergyman's  habit,, 
i„,por.ant  as  it  might  seem,  was  sun  one  o 

secondary    interest    to  me.    Th     m  tte 
of  real  moment  remained^^    ':°"f  Jsu„- 
proved  that  he  had  spent  the  mgh  of  Sun 
day  at  home,  in  his  own  room       U  so, 
I  must    begin    the    whole   mqu.ry    over 

"^Mrs.    Hopkins   was   hospiuble.     She 
invited  me  into  her  parlor,  a,^  gave  ««  a 

glass  of  currant  wine  and  a  b.scu.t.  She 
fntroduced  me  to  her  daughter,  Lucy 
nineteen,  yellow  fringe,  f  -  .-P-^  " 
little  nose.    I  «»  "'^  ^^  to  make  the 

acquaintance  of  Lucy.     1  f^f'^^^ 
perhaps,  she  might  be  useful  to  me,  as 

indeed  she  was-at  the  same  fme  I  d.d 
not  make  much  progress.     It  was  d.fficdt 
to  get  at  the  truth  without  betraymg  my- 
Telf    More  than  that,  I  soon  saw  .t  was 
ta  ossible,  so  I  spoke  out  as  i  had  done 
Tith  the  woman  in  whose  house  the  mur- 
der had  been  committed.    Why  not?     I 
„ust  dear  up  the  whole  mat.-r  to-day. 


I's  habits, 
till  one  of 
;e  matter 
lid  it  be 
It  of  Sun- 
?  If  so, 
uiry    over 

ble.      She 
gave  me  a 
icuit.    She 
iter,  Lucy, 
1  impudent 
o  make  the 
ought   that, 
to  me,  as 
time  I  did 
was  difficult 
traying  my- 
saw  it  was 
s  i  had  done 
,use  the  mur- 
Vhy  not?    1 
lattf'.r  to-day. 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  M9 

Within  twenty-four  hours,  Austin  Harvey 
would  know  all  the  particulars  of  my  con- 
versation  with  Mrs.  Hopkins.  True,  but 
before  twenty-four  hours  were  over,  I  must 
know  definitely  whether  Austin  Harvey 
was  the  murderer  or  not. 

u  Mrs.    Hopkins,"    1  said,    M    am    a 
detective.     Miss  Raynell,  as  you  are  aware, 
has  been  murdered.     Mr.  Harvey  is  her 
heir      He  has  probably  nothing  to  do  with 
the  crime,  but  to  bring  that  out,  once  for 
all    it  is  important  he  should  be  able  to 
prove  that  he  did  not  leave  this  house 
during  the  night  on  which  the  crime  was 
commuted." 

I  saw  the  girl  start.     She  avoided  my 
eyes,  however,  and  sat  looking  out  of  the 
window.    Mrs.  Hopkins  required  a  moment 
or  two  to  recover  from  her  amazement,  but 
when  she  found  breath,  she  burst  into  a 
volley  of  exclamations  and  protestations, 
which  I  calmly  allowed  to  rattle  past.     At 
length,  she  calmed  down  sufficiently,  and  I 
gathered  from  her  the  following  facts  :- 


'i.;j 


It* 


IS  ■, 


ajo  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

The  Rev.  Austin  had  officiated  at  evening 
service  on   Sunday.     He  had  preached. 
Mrs.  Hopkins  and  Lucy  had  heard  him. 
The  service  was  over  by  half-past  eight. 
Then  there  had  been  a  mission  service  in 
the  schoolroom.     Lucy  had  remained  for 
it.     It  had  lasted  till  about  9.30,  or  a  little 
later.     Miss  Lucy  had  come  immediately 
after  it  was  over,  and  had  been  in  the 
house    before     ten.      Both    mother    and 
daughter  were  sure  of  this,  and  Austin  had 
come  in  shortly  after  her.     He  had  rung  at 
the  front-door,  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  herself 
had  admitted  him.     He  looked  tired  and 
worried,  and  was  very  pale.     He  had  said 
to  her  on  the  stairs,  "  I  have  been  delayed 
a  few  moments  after  the  meeting  by  some 
people  wanting  to  speak  to  me,  otherwise  I 
should  have  been  glad  to  see  your  daughter 
home.     It  is  not  half-past  ten  yet,  is  it  ?  " 
and  Mrs.  Hopkins,  looking  at  the  clock  m 
the  hall,  had  said.   "  Just  on  the  stroke, 
sir;"    and,  as  she  said  these  words,  the 
clock  had  struck.    She  remembered   all 


"*)•« 


at  evening 

preached. 

card  him. 

[past  eight. 

service  in 

mained  for 

),  or  a  little 

Timediately 

>een  in   the 

lother    and 

Austin  had 

had  rung  at 

kins  herself 

p  tired  and 

He  had  said 

een  delayed 

ing  by  some 

,  otherwise  I 

>ur  daughter 

yet,  is  it  ?  " 

the  clock  in 

the  stroke, 

words,  the 

smbered   all 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MVKDER. 


«s« 


this  distinctly — the  more  so  because  of  the 
talk  about  the  murder  afterwards.  Mr. 
Harvey  had  said,  "  Weil,  good-night,  I'm 
very  tired,"  and  he  had  gone  up  and  locked 
himself  into  his  bedroom. 

All  this  was  very  disappointing.  Ac- 
cording to  all  probability,  the  murder  had 
been  committed  early  in  the  night,  before 
the  unfortunate  lady  had  attempted  to 
undress.  I  had  come  to  this  conclusion  in 
spite  of  the  tumbled  bed  and  emptied  glass. 
I  believe  that  these  accessories  had  merely 
been  used  to  lead  the  investigation  astray. 
The  deed  had  not  been  done  in  the  morn- 
ing— it  must,  then,  have  been  done  before 
midnight. 

If  Austin  was  concerned  in  it,  he  must, 
accordingly,  have  left  his  rooms  again  and 
betaken  himself  to  the  Marine  Parade. 
Now,  though  I  must  verify  my  dis- 
tances, I  knew  already  that  if  Austin's 
lodgings  were  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
church,  the  house  on  the  Marine  Parade 
must  be  at  least  a  mile  farther  yet,  on  the 


<   11^ 


,_  mE  BLACK-BOX  UVROER. 

opposite  Side.  Austin's  church,  and.  still 
more,  his  apartments,  were  altogether  out- 
side the  town,  in  a  suburb.  It  was  quae 
impossible  that  he  could  have  got  to  h.s 

aunfs  house  and  back  in  barely  three- 
quarters  of  an  ho"'. 

"All  that  proves  nothing,"  I  said;  "what 

I  want  to  know  U.  was  he  in  his  room  all 

night  ?  " 

Aeain  I  saw  the  daughter  start. 

-And  of  course."  said  Mrs.  Hopkms, 
indignantly;  "and  where  else  should  a 
gentleman  be,  pray?  And  what  do  you 
mean  coming  and  asking  such  quesfons 
1  went  up  to  my  own  bed  at  eleven,  and  1 
heanl  him  breathing  heavily  in  h.s  sleep, 
which  is  a  way  he  has;  and  next  mormng 

he  got  his  hot  water  regular  ;  and  1,  who 
sleep  as  light  as  a  feather,  as  if  ishouldnt 

have  heard,  indeed,  if  gentlemen  were  to 
go  walking  about  the  house  at  mght^ 

Mrs  Hopkins  was  very  much  ruffled. 

"  All  the  same,"  1  said  coolly -."we  want 

proof." 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


SS3 


Ind,  still 
(her  out- 
jas  quite 
)t  to  his 
|y  three- 

"  what 
room  all 


Hopkins, 

should   a 

t  do  you 

[uestions  ? 

ven,  and  I 

his  sleep, 

;t  morning 

nd  I,  who 

[  shouldn't 

:n  were  to 

ight." 

ruffled. 

"  we  want 


Mrs.  Hopkins  sniffed  angrily.  I  rose  to 
take  my  leave.  There  was  nothing  more 
to  be  got  out  of  the  landlady.  The  giri, 
Lucy,  jumped  up  from  her  seat  simulta- 
neously, and  ran  forward. 

"  Don't  you  trouble,  mother,"  she  said  ; 
•*  I'll  let  the  gendeman  out." 

As  we  passed  into  the  hall,  she  closed 
the  parlor  door  behind  her.  Then  she 
faced  me, 

«  Is  he  accused  ?  "  she  gasped ;  "  is  he 
in  danger  ?  " 

I  saw  my  chance,  and  caught  at  it. 

"In  very  great  danger,"  I  said  impres- 
sively, "  unless  we  can  get  to  know  exactly 
what  he  did  that  night." 

The  girl  faltered.  Her  color  came  and 
went.  She  made  once  or  twice  as  if  she 
would  speak,  and  stopped  short. 

"  All  depends  on  that."  I  said. 

"  He  never  left  the  house,"  she  burst  out 
suddenly  ;  "  I  know  he  never  did." 

"  Ah,  well,  my  dear,"  I  said ;  "  but  do 
you  know  it  ?  " 


\SA 


,5^  THE  BJ.ACKBOX  MURDER. 

M  do,"  she  hissed.  "Never  mind. 
Don't  ask  me.  We  were  to  have  been 
married.  1  had  never,  never  listened  to 
him  before.  Don't  tell  my  mother.  He 
promised  me.  There,  I've  ruined  myself 
to  save  him-but  he  never  left  the  house 
till  eight  o'clock  next  day." 

She  began  to  sob  so  violently  that  I  had 
to  hurry  off  and  leave  her  in  the  hall,  much 
to  my  regret.  I  was  afraid  her  mother 
>vould  find  us  there  together.  It  would 
have  been  extremely  awkward. 


TirS  BLACK-BOX  itURDElU 


ns 


:r    mind. 

ive  been 

Istened  to 

pher.     He 

;d  myself 

the  house 

that  I  had 

hall,  much 

er  mother 

It  would 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE   ARREST. 


As  I  left  the  house,  and  walked  down  the 
crescent,  two  results  of  my  visit  stood  out 
clearly  in  my  mind.  The  first  was  this: 
That  it  seemed,  humanly  speaking,  entirely 
impossible  that  Austin  Harvey  could  have 
been  concerned  in  the  murder.  And  the 
second  was  this,  that,  morally,  at  anyrate, 
the  man  might  be  considered  capable  of  the 
crime.  His  sweetness,  his  powers  of 
pleasing — ^all  that  had  attracted  and 
blinded  me — all  this  was  a  mask,  far  more 
effective  even  than  his  profession  and 
clerical  dress.  The  man  was  a  scoundrel. 
This  discovery,  or  rather  this  confirma- 
tion of  the  vague  disquiet  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours,  brpught  the  possibility  of 
Austin  Harvey's  guilt  so  much  the  nearer 


.fit 


•-\i 
U 


*f5 


I'^i: 


li 


,56  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDES. 

at  the  very  moment  when  the  actual  facts 

seemed  to  remove  it  altogether  beyond  my 

crasp.     1  walked  over  the  distance,  and 

carefully  measured  them.    My  worst  fears 

proved  true.     Austin   lived  more  than  a 

mile  and  a  half  from  his  aunt's  lodgmgs 

and  his  church  stood  at  about  one-third  o 

the  whole  distance  from  his  l^o"««;  /J'^ 
wastrue,asthegirlhadsaid-andlhad 

no  reason  to  doubt  her-that  he  had  not 
left  the  house  all  night  after  he  had  once 
returned  to  it  from  the  evening  service 
then  the  only  time  which  I  had  not  yet 

fully  accounted  for  was  the  period  from 
9.45  to  10.30.  Surely  it  was  utterly  im- 
possible that  he  could  in  that  time  have 
walked  two  miles  and  a  half,  and  done  all 

that  he  had  to  do  in  the  house.  ■ 

Was  he,  then,  innocent?  Iknewhewas 
not  There  seemed  to  be  just  one  chance 
forme.  He  might  have  driven  in  some 
conveyance  from  the  church  and  back  It 
Ldlyseemedlikely.    For.  if  he  had  done 


ual  facts 

ond  my 

nee,  and 

rst  fears 

e  than  a 

lodgings, 

e-third  of 

ise.     If  it 

ind  I  had 

e  had  not 

had  once 

g  service, 

d  not  yet 

|eriod  from 

utterly  im- 

time  have 

id  done  all 

lew  he  was 
one  chance 
n  in  some 
I  back.  It 
e  had  done 


TffB  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  «S7 

so,  it  would  have  been  as  if  he  had  sum- 
moned up  testimony  against  himself. 

I  made  inquiries  in  the  town,  with  which 
I  need  not  trouble  the  reader.  They  led 
me  to  the  not  unexpected  conclusion  that 
on  Sunday,  and  at  that  time  of  night,  the 
curate  could  not  have  used  a  cab  without 
my  being  able  to  trace  it.  I  was  not  able 
to  trace  it,  and  I  became  entirely  convinced 
that  no  conveyance  had  been  used. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  during  these 
investigations.  The  more  hopeless  the 
facts  seemed  to  become,  the  more  desper- 
ately resolved  I  felt  that  the  crime  must  be 
traced  home  to  Austin  Harvey.  He  was 
the  guilty  man.  I  knew  it.  He  shall  not 
escape,  I  said.  Nevertheless,  at  seven,  I 
resolved  to  go  back  to  London.  I  had 
seen  the  clerk  of  St.  Mary's.  I  had  again 
seen  the  deaf  old  landlady  at  Miss  Raynell's 
house.  I  had  not  learnt  anything  really 
new,  except  that  Austin  had  left  the  vestry 
immediately  after  the  second  service,  in 


i:n 


i 


t5t  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

great  naste,  before  9.45.  I  was  hungry, 
tired,  and  disappointed.  I  turned  my 
steps  in  the  direction  of  the  railway  station. 

As  I  reached  it,  the  boys  were  crying 
the  evening  papers.  One  thing  they  were 
calling  out  naturally  attracted  my  attention. 
♦*  Arrest  of  the  murderer  I  Arrest  of  the 
murderer ! " 

I  stopped  a  boy  who  was  passing,  and 
bought  an  Echo.  I  opened  it,  and  looked 
hastily  through  it,  almost  with  an  intuition 
of  what  I  should  find.  There  it  was,  in 
large  letters. 

"Third  Edition— Arrest  of  the  Black- 
Box  Murderer  at  Dijon.— Philip  Harvey, 
the  man  who  is  believed  by  the  police  to 
have  murdered  Miss  Raynell,  was  arrested 
last  night  in  the  express  train  between 
Paris  and  Marseilles.  The  arrest  was 
effected  at  the  Dijon  Station." 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


<S9 


hungry, 
ned   my 

ly  station, 
e  crying 
hey  were 

attention. 

:st  of  the 

ssing,  and 
nd  looked 
n  intuition 
it  was,  in 

the  Black- 
ip  Harvey, 
lie  police  to 
ras  arrested 
in  between 
arrest  was 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  SHOT. 

I  WENT  Straight  home,  with  that  newspaper 
in  my  hand,  like  a  man  dazed.  I  found 
Austin  Harvey  waiting  for  me  in  my  sitting- 
room.  Without  a  word  of  greeting  or  ex- 
planation, I  walked  up  to  him,  and  thrust 
the  paper  under  his  eyes.  He  read  the 
news  it  brought.  It  frightened  him  very 
much.     I  was  glad  it  frightened  him. 

"  And  what  is  to  be  done  now  ?  "  he 
gasped. 

"Done!"  I  replied  bitterly;  "the  law 
must  take  its  course,  and  the  guilty  man 
must  swing." 

Austin  did  not  speak.  I  saw  he  could 
not. 

"  But  they  will  have  to  prove,  first,"  I 
continued,  looking  closely  at  him,  "  that  he 
is  the  guilty  man,  and  how  he  did  it." 


■ii. 


^  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

Austin's  face  twitched  nervously. 
«  Surely "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  great 
effort,  "that  is  plain   enough;  only  too 

plain." 

«  It  is  not  plain  at  all,  as  yet,  to  me,  Mr. 
Harvey "  I  answered,  still  staring  him  in 
the  face ;  "  and  the  more  I  investigate  the 
case,  the  less  plain  it  becomes  to  me.  I 
am  not  at  all  sure  that,  as  jet,  we  have 
found  the  right  explanation." 

We  stood  watching  each  other.    Neither 
of  us  dared  to  say  anything  more.     At  this 
stage  of  my  knowledge,  I  asked  myself 
whether  I  had  not  already  hinted  too  much. 
I  had  made  Austin  uneasy— that  I  could 
see.      He  was   much    perturbed  by  his 
brother's  arrest,  and  he  had  a  vague  feeling 
that  my  whole  manner  was  pregnant  with 
some  meaning  inimical  to  himself.    It  would 
not  do  to  put  him  on  his  guard  before  I 

had  proof. 

Proof,  then,  I  must  have.  Philip's  arrest 
only  accentuated  the  need  for  immediate 
action.     But  what  could  I  do  ?    How  was 


Neither 
At  this 
ed  myself 
too  much. 
It  I  could 
»d  by  his 
rue  feeling 
gnant  with 
It  would 
d  before  I 

ilip's  arrest 

immediate 

How  was 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  a6i 

Austin  responsible?  What  part  had  he 
played?  To  these  questions  1  had  no 
answer,  and  Austin's  a/»^J  was  as  perfect  as 
any  man  could  wish. 

We  talked  of  Philip's  arrest  and  its  im- 
minent consequences,  and  so  got  on  to 
safer  ground.    Austin  declared  repeatedly 
that  it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to 
neglect  his  clerical  duties  any  longer.     He 
must  get  back  by  the  last  train  that  night. 
I  tried  hard  to  persuade  him  to  go  to  Pans. 
I  should  have  been  only  too  glad  to  know 
him  out  of  the  way  for  a  time.    Surel> ,  I 
thought,  some  suggestion  must  turn  up, 
some  indication  must  come  to  the  fore. 
But  Austin  insisted  on  remaining.     It  was 
decided  that  I  should  return  to  Paris  that 
very  night,  and  watch  the  case  as  best  I 
might.      I    could    not    deny    that-from 
Austin's    standpoint-this    was  the   best 
thing  that  could  be  done.     1  could  find  no 
reasonable  excuse  for  refusing  his  request, 
and-as   Southend   appeared   unable   to 


ll 


; 


ate  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

furnish  me  with  the  desired  explanatbn — 
I  must  admit  I  wad  not  unwilling  to  go 
back  to  Paris  and  to  Philip  Harvey.  Per- 
haps I  might  be  more  successful  there. 

I  took  leave,  then,  of  Austin — or  rather 
we  started  together,  each  for  his  particular 
station.  What  a  quantity  of  ground  we 
had  both  traveled  over  in  the  last  forty- 
eight  hours  !  And  yet  I,  for  one,  did  not 
feel  any  physical  fatigue,  though  I  was  cer- 
tainly morally  exhausted  and  harassed  by 
my  ill-success.  It  vexed  me  exceedingly 
that  I  was  obliged  to  receive  this  man— to 
speak  to  him,  and  to  let  him  depart  again 
without  taxing  him  with  what  I  knew  to  be 
his  crime.  Strangely  enough,  the  more  im- 
possible it  seemed  the  more  convinced  I 
became  that  he  was  the  murderer.  But, 
nevertheless,  I  had  to  deliberate  with  him 
about  his  brother  as  if  I  believed  every 
lying  word  he  said. 

We   were  going  down  a  quiet  street 
together,  when  something  flashed  by  us  in 


T 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  ll| 

the  darkness,  and  at  the  same  moment  an 
idea— a  hope— a  possibility— flashed  across 
my  brain.    A  cyclist  had  just  passed  us. 


i64 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDEA, 


CHAPTER  XX VII 

THE  CHALLENGE. 

I  TURNED  to  Austin  Harvey  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment. 

"  You  cycle,  do  you  not,"  I  said. 

It  was  like  an  inspiration.  He  broke 
out  fiercely,  with  a  sudden  oath, — 

"  Damn  you,"  he  said.  "  What  do  you 
know  ?     How  little  ?     How  much  ?  " 

He  struck  me  over  the  face  with  his 
clenched  fist,  and  darted  down  the  street. 


JU 


TBS  BLACK-BOX  MURDSJt, 


•es 


the  spur  of 

said. 

He  broke 
h.— 

Vhat  do  you 
mch?" 
ice  with  his 
n  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FOLLOWING  UP  THF  CLUE. 

As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  from  the  be- 
wilderment of  the  blow,  I  pulled  myself 
together  and  walked  on.     I  did  not  hurry. 
I  made  no  futile  attempt  to  overtake  the 
runaway  cleric.     I  felt  sure  now-sooner 
or  later— everything  would  come  right.     I 
did  not  start  for  Paris.     I  went  to   the 
other  station,  and  caught  the  Southend 
train.     I  looked  in  vain  for  the  curate— he 
did  not  turn  up.     I  got  into  the  train,  all 
the  same.  At  that  moment  I  could  not  stop 
him  or  catch  him.     Fortunately  he  would 
not   f>.   able  to  fly  far  before  to-morrow 
morning,  and  I  must  find  out  about  that 

cv  cle  at  once. 

'  i   have  called  the  idea  an  inspiration. 
It  was  not  that.    It  was  just  merely  a 


■hii 


ft': 


gd  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

happy  combination.    In  seeing  the  cyclist 
pass  me,  it  had  suddenly   struck  me  that 
a  cycle  gets  over  the  ground  even  faster 
than  a  cab.    As  a  mere  shot  I  had  said  out 
my  thought  aloud  to  Austin  Harvey,  and  it 
had  struck  fearfully  and  unexpectedly  home. 
The  unhappy  man  had  betrayed  himself. 
He  must,  then,  indeed  have  murdered  his 
aunt  in  those  brief  moments.     Apparently 
he  had  used  a  bicycle  to  reach  the  house, 
tcould  compute  nothing  further  till  I  knew 
where  he  had  obtainea  tne  madime. 

It  was  past  eleven  by  the  time  I  reached 
Mrs.  Hopkins'  house  for  the  second  time 
that  day.    The  house  was  dark.     The 
whole  family  were  in  bed.     Never  mind,  I 
rang  and  knocked  till  I  woke  them.     Mrs. 
Hopkins  appeared  at  a  window,  and   I 
asked  whether  her  reverend  lodger  was  in 
the  house.     He  was  not ;  he  had  not  come 
home  all  day.     Then  Mrs.  Hopkins  must 
admit  me  instantly.     I  had  important  mat- 
ters   to  arrange  with  her,  in   the   name 


T" 


la^ 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


167 


r  mind,  I 
n.     Mrs. 


IT,  and   I 


er  was  in 
not  come 
ins  must 
tant  mat- 
iie   name 


of  the  law.    Mrs.  Hopkins  obeyed  with 
alarmed  and  inquisitive  alacrity. 

Presently  we  were  sitting  in  the  parlor 
again — Mrs.  Hopkins  in  dignified  undress 
— by  the  light  of  a  flickering  candle.  The 
daughter  came  peeping  into  the  room,  pale 
and  anxious,  with  her  hair  in  curl-papers. 
I  put  her  out  gently,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Mrs,  Hopkins,"  I  said,  "  is  there  a 
cycling  machine  of  any  kind  in  this 
house  ? " 

"  Lor'  bless  you,  Mr.  Detective,"  said 
Mrs.  Hopkins,  *'  and  what  do  you  come 
here  for  at  such  a  time  of  night  to  ask  me 
such  a  question  as  that  ?  " 

*'  But  is  there  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  there  is,  if  you  must  know,  then.'* 

I  could  have  kissed  the  woman. 

"  There's  an  old  one  belonging  to  my 
boy  Jimmy,  but  it  hasn't  been  used  for  six 
months  and  more." 

"  Show  it  to  me." 

Mrs.  Hopkins  grumbled  a  good  deal  at 
tliis,  but  ultimately  decided  to  obey.    She 


368  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

led  me  out,  still  with  the  candle,  which  only 
flickered  the  more  in  the  night  air,  to  a 
small,  oblong  plot  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
In  one  corner  of  this  plot  was  a  tool-shed 
with  an  unlocked  door ;  and  in  the  shed  a 
bicycle,  certainly  not  of  the  latest  make, 
leant  up  against  the  wall.  There  was  a 
back  entrance  to  the  yard,  as  I  immediately 
noticed  on  entering  it. 

I  stooped  down  and  examined  the 
machine.  I  took  it  out  and  rolled  it  up 
and  down  the  little  garden.  The  wheels 
moved  quite  easily.  It  had  certainly  been 
recently  oiled. 

"  You  say  it  has  not  been  used  within 
the  last  six  months  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  indeed.  Who  would  use  it  ?  My 
son  is  away  in  London." 

«  Mr.  Harvey   never  cycles  that  you 

know  ? ' ' 

*•  Mr.  Harvey  ?  The  Rev.  Mr.  Harvey  ? 
Good  gracious,  no!  It's  a  sport  that's 
scarcely  befitting  a  clergyman,  /  should 
say,"  said  Mrs.  Hopkins. 


le  house. 
:ool-shed 
le  shed  a 
:st  make, 
•e  was  a 
nediately 

ined  the 
led  it  up 
le  wheels 
linly  been 

led  within 

iit?    My 

that  you 

.  Harvey  ? 

lort   that's 

/  should 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  ««9 

« Well,  opinions  may  vary  as  to  that, 
Mrs.  Hopkins,"  I  said. 

I  put  the  machine  back  into  the  shed. 
There  was  no  doubt  as  to  its  being  available 

for  actual  use. 

«  And  Mr.  Harvey  has  a  key  to  that 
door?"  I  remarked,  pointing  to  the  back 

entrance. 

«  Yes,  he  has.  He  wanted  a  latch-key 
vrhen  he  took  the  rooms,  but  I  wouldn't  let 
him  have  one.  We're  two  women  alone  m 
the  house,  and  the  neighborhood's  lone- 
some;  so  we  agreed  for  him  to  use  this 
back  door,  where  he  has  to  come  past  our 
bedroom,  and  I  lock  and  bolt  the  front  door 
at  eleven,  whether  he's  in  or  not,  you 

sec 

I  did  see.    Not  that  it  mattered  much, 

for  he  could  easily  have  had  the  key  made 
had  he  not  possessed  one. 

I  took  leave  of  Mrs.  Hopkins,  and  went 
in  search  of  some  place  where  I  might  pass 
the  night.  I  did  not  attend  to  bmd  her 
over  to  secrecy.     It  would  have  been  of  no 


■■i 


9^  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

use.     Besides,  alive  or  dead,  I  was  pretty 
nigh  sure  of  my  man  by  this  time. 


- 1  mf.if 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


XIX 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

I   BEGIN   TO   UNDERSTAND. 

It  was  now  possible  for  me  to  reconstruct 
the  crime,— or,  at  least,  my  idea  of  it, — 
with  a  fair  amount  of  accuracy.     Presum- 
ably   Austin    Harvey   had    premeditated 
the  murder   of  his   aunt  with  a  view  to 
obtaining  definite  possession  of  her  pro- 
perty before  she  again  changed  her  will. 
The  whole  thing  had  been  cleverly  planned ; 
the  murderer's  one  preoccupation  being  to 
prove  an  alibi.     In  this  effort  he  had  been 
apparently  successful.  He  could,  of  course, 
prove  his  presence  in  church  up  to  past 
half-past  nine.     He  could  prove  that  he  had 
reached   his  home   before    half-past    ten, 
••having  walked  back,"  as  he  would  pro- 
bably say,  '*  along  the  cliffs."     And  he  had 
made  further  arrangements— the  scoundrel 


lit    *i 


ill' ' :  ,   \ 


i 


•7« 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


—SO  as  to  prove  that  he  had  not  left  the 
house  all  night. 

No  one,  he  fancied,  would  accuse  him  of 
walking  two  miles  and  a  half,  committing 
a  murder,  and  unpacking  a  box  full  of  books 
in  considerably  less  than  an  hour,  and  here- 
in, certainly,  he  judged  righdy.     He  knew, 
with  but  one  or  two  other  people,— the 
inmates  o:  .he  house,— of  the  existence  of 
the  bicycle  in  the  back  shed  ;  he  could  get 
to  it  unnoticed ;  probably— no,  certainly— 
he  had  cycled  in  his  youth  before  he  ever 
took  orders  or  came  to  Southend.     No  one 
would  dream  of  so  unlikely  an  explanation, 
for— to  begin  with— no  one  would    ever 
suspect  him  at  all.     He  must  have  rushed 
home  from  the  church,  and  then  done  the 
two  miles  and  a  half  which  still  remained 
to  be  accounted  for  on  the  machine.    That 
would  leave  him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more 
for  what  he  had  to  do  in  the  house.  Enough 
in  my  judgment. 

The   crime    once    committed,    nothing 
remained  but  to  throw  the  whole  blame  on 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER.  aTj 

his  brother,  the  natural  "  suspect."     On  the 
one  hand,  this  seemed  a  monstrous  wicked- 
ness ;  on  the  other,  it  became  much  more 
intelligible  when   it  was  remembered   to 
what  extent  the  rivalry  for  the  hand  of  Miss 
Simpkinson  had   probably   separated  the 
two  brothers,  in  spite  of  former  affection. 
True,  Philip  had  always  spoken  of  his  elder 
brother  with  attachment  and  even  admira- 
tion: but  then  Philip  was  the  successful 
aspirant  to  the  lady's  heart,  even  though 
Austin  had  gained  her  hand,  and  success  in 
such  matters  is  apt  to  soften  as  much  as 
failure    makes    hard.     Austin,  no  doubt, 
would  consider  he  had  barely  gained  his 
cause  as  long  as  he  had  not  ousted  his 
brother  out  of  Miss  Simpkinson's  prefer- 
ence.    There  was  one  way,  and  one  only, 
by  which  he  might  perhaps  attain  both 
ends— his  own  safety  and  his  rival's  down- 
fall.    What  wonder  if  he   took  it,    even 
though   that    rival    happened    to   be  his 
brother  ?     There  are  no  natural  affections 
injealousy  and  war. 

18 


pi  : 
i!:''  ill     It 


ft 

lil 


: !  I !       1 


llil*- 

ll 

iii 


ti  1 


1 


1^4  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

And  now,  suddenly,  viewed  in  this  light, 
all  Austin's  conduct  in  Paris  became  clear 
to  me.  Once  the  murder  was  committed, 
he  must  have  had  two  ends  equally  in 
view— one  to  fasten  the  guilt  publicly  on 
his  brother,  the  other  to  rescue  that  bro- 
ther from  the  hands  of  justice.     He  did  not 

you   may   be  sure— want  to  bring  his 

brother  to  the  gallows.  What  he  wanted 
was  to  get  Philip  safely  away  to  some 
distant  land,  whence  he  could  never  return, 
and  then,  equally  safely  and  peacefully,  to 
enjoy  the  possession  of  the  lady  and  the 
money.  He  would  probably  have  done  all 
he  coi  Id  to  make  his  brother  comfortable 
ii'^r'er  the  circumstances. 

I  could  now  understand  how  especially 
useful  for  his  object  the  services  of  a  private 
detective  would  be.  My  help  was  just  the 
very  thing  he  wanted,  and  he  seized  upon 
it  with  great  adroitness.  I  must  find  out 
Philip's  guilt,  and  so  frighten  the  man  him- 
self into  fall  belief  of  it  and  flight.  To 
attain  this  he  had  given  me  just  the  neces- 


ts. 


specially 
a  private 
i  just  the 
Ecd  upon 
find  out 
nan  him- 
rht.  To 
[le  neces- 


THE  BLACK  POX  MURDER.  Vfi 

sary  amount  of  information — and  withheld 
it  from  the  police. 

And  the  letter  dropped  on  the  stairs ! 
Great  heaven,  it  must  have  been  dropped 
on  purpose !    Austin's  whole  visit  to  me 
must  have  been  made  with  the  one  object 
of  letting  that  letter  fall  under  my  eyes  as 
he  went  out.     I  began  to  feel  sure  of  this, 
now  I  thought  about  it.     His  return  to  my 
room,  khe  expostulation,  the  fight  over  the 
compromising  document,  these  were  merely 
got  lip  to  stifle  any  suspicion  which  might 
hav'i  arisen  in  my  breast.    A  man  who  is 
playing  a  part  is  always  ultra-anxious  and 
he  often  overdoes  it,  because  he  can  never 
qi,'ite  release  himself  from  the  fear  that  the 
pfirson  to  be  deluded  must  somehow  notice 
what  he,  the  deceiver,  so  plainly  sees,  ».*., 
the  deceit.     I  remembered  how  unexpect- 
edly  Austin  Harvey's  strength  had  seemed 
to  collapse  during  the  struggle.     I   had 
remarked  it  at  the  time.     I  now  felt  sure 
that  this  was  part  of  his  prearranged  plot ; 
ami  that  he,  young  and  athletic  as  he  was, 


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t^  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

could  easily  have  got  the  better  of  me  if  he 
had  chosen  to  do  so. 

And  now  I  understood  why  the  facts  of 
the  case  had  dawned  upon  me  so  conveni- 
ently at  first.     The  murderer  himself  had 
been  helping  me,  and  refusing  all  help  to 
the  Government   detectives.     His  whole 
computation  was  built  up  on  the  hope  that 
the  police  would  find  out  the  truth  a  few- 
days  later  than  I.     In  that  interval  Philip 
would  be  compelled  to  fly.     This  plan  had, 
as  we  have   seen,  succeeded   and  failed 
simultaneously.  The  Scotland  Yard  people 
had  come  after  me,  certainly,  but  they  had 
followed  too  closely  on  my  heels,  and  they 
had  snapped  up  Philip  before  he  could  get 
away.     Part  of  this,  no  doubt,  was  due  to 
Austin's  mismanagement ;  but  part  of  it, 
also,  could  be  accounted  for  by  Philip's  un- 
willingness to  recognize  his  imaginary  guilt. 
In    reality,    then,    while    I    had    been 
sneering  in  my  own  heart  at  the  authorities, 
they  had  been  getting  on  as  fast  as  they 
could  under  the  circumstances  ;  while  I, 


•*% 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 


9.-11 


me  if  he 

facts  of 
conveni- 
iself  had 

help  to 
s  whole 
ope  that 
th  a  few 
al  Philip 
plan  had, 
id  failed 
•d  people 
they  had 
and  they 
could  get 
IS  due  to 
art  of  it, 
hilip's  un- 
lary  guilt, 
lad    been 
uthorities, 
it  as  they 
;  while  I, 


who  had  thought  so  much  of  my  success, 
had  simply  been  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  a 
man  ten  times  more  cunning  than  I  was. 
Still,  I  had  gone  off  the  track  he  had 
marked  out  for  me  as  soon  as  I  realized 
the  facts  of  the  case,  and  ultimately  I  had 
outwitted    him  altogether.      I    could   be 
proud  of  that,  and  rightly  so.     It  was  not 
Austin   Harvey's  intention  that  I  should 
brand  Austin  Harvey  as  the  guilty  man. 
And  now,  what  must  1  do  next  ?     Could  I 
prove  what  I  asserted  ?     If  I  could,  should 
I  go  immediately  to  Scotland  Yard  and 
give  in  the  case?     But  what  were   my 
indications  of  Austin's  guilt  ?     A  luggage- 
label,  found  in  his  pocket ;  a  loop  in  his 
handwriting;  a  knot  which  had  been  untied 
a  week  ago.     Pshaw !  evidence  I  had  none. 
And   Philip  was  already  under  arrest, 
with  all  the  weight  of  suspicion  lying  heavy 
on  his  shoulders.     Very  probably  he  would 
confess  his  guilt.     Very  probably  Austin 
was,  even  at  this  moment,  hurrying  away 
towards  complete  security.    The  idea  got 


ir 


878  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

hold  of  me  that,  in  spite  of  my  discoveries, 
the  case  was  going  wrong.  Austin  would 
get  away  ;  Philip  would  be  condemned ; 
no  one  would  believe  me. 

That  idea  drove  me  simply  frantic.  I 
paced  the  streets  all  night,  and,  having  set 
a  Southend  policeman  to  watch  Austin's 
house,  I  went  back  to  London  by  the  very 
earliest  train.  I  had  not  had  a  regular 
sleep  since  my  night  in  the  Saracen's  Head, 
and  even  that  had  been  a  disturbed  one. 
After  that  I  had  spent  a  night  on  the 
Channel,  then  a  second  night  on  the 
Channel,  and  now  I  was  roaming  up  and 
down  through  the  streets  of  Southend.  I 
cannot  say  I  felt  tired.  The  hunting  fever 
was  upon  me. 


ovenes, 
1  would 
emned ; 


TUK  BLACK-BOX  MURDER, 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

SCOTLAND  YARD  GIVES  ITS  OPINION. 

On  arriving  in  London,  I  went  first  to  my 
rooms,  actuated  by  some  vague  hope  that 
Austin  Harvey  might  be  waiting  for  me 
there.  I  was  not  surprised  to  find  this 
hope  a  mere  delusion.  I  had  scarcely 
trusted  to  it,  and  its  unreasonableness 
seemed  clear  enough.  So  I  betook  myself 
to  Scotland  Yard,  and  easily  succeeded  in 
getting  hold  of  the  man  who  had  managed 
the  Black-Box  inquiry.  I  had  a  number  of 
acquaintances  among  the  detectives  at 
Scotland  Yard. 

I  found  everybody  talking  about  the 
murder,  and  elated  at  the  capture.  Bunsby, 
the  fellow  who  had  settled  it  all,  was  the 
hero  of  the  day. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  to  me,  "  it's  all  as 
clear  as  ditch-water,  now,  I  can  tell  you. 


I 


ilii; 


1!  : 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

There  never  was  a  hitch  after  we  once  got 
hold  of  the  right  due.  I  only  wish  we 
could  have  got  the  old  lady  at  Paris  to 
speak  up  sooner.  The  daughter's  no  good. 
Once  I  knew  about  the  nephew,  it  was  all 
plain  sailing.  And  we  caught  the  fellow 
just  as  he  was  making  a  run  for  it.  Very 
nearly  gave  us  the  slip  ! " 

"  And  you're  quite  sure  yovi've  got  the 
right  nephew  ? "     I  said. 

"Sure!     Bless  you,  yes.    Besides,  the 

fellow's  confessed." 

-  He  has,  has  he  ?  "     I  cried,  with  an  in- 
voluntary oath.    "Poor  fellow!    God  help 

him,  then ! " 

The  exclamation-a  strong  one— had 
burst  from  me.  Mr.  Bunsby  surveyed  me 
with  indignant  surprise.  One  or  two  other 
men  in  the  room  came  forward  from  curio- 
sity. 

«  Look  here,"  I  said  desperately,  «  con- 
fession's the  French  way,  and  I  daresay 
they  squeezed  it  out  of  him.  Never  mind. 
Only,  mind  you.  I've  been  looking  into  this 


)nce  got 
vish  we 
Paris  to 
no  good, 
t  was  all 
le  fellow 
t.    Very 

;  got  the 

ides,  the 

rith  s.n  in- 
God  help 

one — ^had 
veyed  me 
two  other 
rom  curio- 

;ely, "  con- 
I  daresay 
ever  mind, 
ig  into  this 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  a«I 

case  for  the  family,  and  I  say, '  Don't  be 
too  sure  you've  got  the  right  man  yet.  In 
any  case,  arrest  his  brother  too,  if  you  can, 
and  you'll  be  the  better  for  it.  He  may 
turn  out  an  accomplice.'  "     ' 

There  was  a  general  howl  of  derision. 
Government  detectives  naturally  do  not 
care  to  take  advice  from  private  ones. 
They  distrust  them,  and  look  upon  them  as 
so  many  will-o'-the-wisps  (intentional  ones, 
often)  in  that  swamp  of  crime  on  which  the 
policeman's    bull's-eye    sheds    its   certain 

"radiance. 

«  And  that  shows,"  said  Mr.  Bunsby  sen- 
tentiously,  *'what  a  mistake  it  is  for  you 
fellows  to  meddle  in  our  cases.  I  presume 
you  allude  to  the  Rev.  Austin  Harvey. 
Now,  I  have  looked  very  carefully  into  the 
matter,  and  I  have  accordingly  made  in- 
quiries also  about  the  Rev.  Austin  Harvey, 
although  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  a  suspicion 
connected  with  his  name.  He  is  a  highly- 
respected  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England;  and,  besides  that,   he  was   at 


!  I- 


t8a  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

home,  and  in  his  own  bed,  all  through  the 
night  of  the  murder.     So  there ! " 

Mr.  Bunsby  spread  himself  out,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  stood  watching 
me  triumphantly. 

"You  are  quite  sure  of  all  that?"     I 

asked. 

"Quite  sure.  You  needn't  try  to 
bewilder  us,  sir ;  it's  not  worth  your  trouble. 
The  case  is  too  plain  this  time.  I've  got  it 
all  worked  out  like  a  sum  in  rule  of  three. 
Philip  Harvey's  done  the  deed,  and  Philip 
Harvey  '11  swing  for  it." 

What  could  I  do  with  the  man  ?  I  saw 
that  further  efforts  would  be  useless— at 
least  at  this  moment.  A  sick  helplessness 
came  over  me.  Suddenly  I  realized  that 
I  was  dead-tired.  I  went  back  to  my  own 
lodgings  in  a  moral  condition  very  like 
despair. 


THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER, 


«8S 


ough  the 


,  with  his 
watching 

^at?"     I 

t  try  to 
ir  trouble. 
I've  got  it 
:  of  three, 
md  Philip 

• 

I  ?  I  saw 
iseless — at 
ilplessness 
alized  that 
to  my  own 
very  like 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

AND   AUSTIN  WINDS  UP  THE  CASE. 

As  I  crept  slowly  up  my  stairs,  I  kept  on 
repeating  to  myself  that  it  was  no  use,  the 
law  must  take  its  course.  After  all,  it  was 
no  business  of  mine.  If  the  authorities 
blundered,  they  must  bear  the  responsibi- 
lity ;  it  would  not  be  the  first  innocent  man 
they  had  hanged.  And  if  Philip  Harvey 
had  chosen  to  confess  himself  guilty  of  a 
crime  he  had  never  committed,  so  much 
the  worse  for  him.  I  must  leave  him  to 
his  fate.    And  yet — 

I  opened  my  sitting-room  door,  and 
found  myself  face  to  face  with  Austin  Har- 
vey. 

There  he  stood,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
table,  between  the  windows,  his  face  turned 
from  the  light.     None  the  less,  I  could  see 


P*    \ 


1 


7^' 


!! 


li: 
f  i 


a84  TffE  BLACK-BOX  MURPER. 

that  he  was  very  pale  and  worn-looking, 
and  that  there  was  a  feverish  sparkle  in  his 
clear,  blue  eyes.  He  stood  with  his  arms 
crossed  over  his  broad  chest,  in  his  long 
clerical  coat,  handsome,  and  stalwart,  and 

still. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  said,  as  soon  as  I  could 
find  speech.  "  What  have  you  come  here 
for,  Mr.  Harvey  ?     What  do  you  want  with 

me  .-• 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Austin, 
in  a  dull  voice ;  "  and  I  want  to  ask  you 
something.      It    is    true    that    Philip    is 

arrested  ? " 

*  Of  course  it  is  true,"  I  replied,  not 
pausing  to  note  whether  there  was  an  in- 
terrogation in  his  voice  or  not.  "  Have 
you  come  here  to  ask  me  that  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  for  a  good  deal  more," 
Austin  answered,  in  a  voice  full  of  meaning 
and  menace.  "I  believe  it  is  true.  I 
have  not  seen  the  morning  papers ;  I  did 
not  dare  to  buy  them.  Have  you  got 
one  r 


?i 


n-looking, 
•kle  in  his 
.  his  arms 
his  long 
Iwart,  and 

as  I  could 
come  here 
want  with 

lid  Austin, 

0  ask  you 

Philip    is 

jplied,  not 
was  an  in- 
t.     "  Have 

leal  more," 
of  meaning 
is  true.  I 
lers ;  I  did 
e   you  got 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  aSs 

«  No  ;  but  Philip's  caught.  His  guilt  is 
proved,  and  he'll  be  hung  in  a  week  or  two. 
And  now,  you — you  assassin  and  fratricide, 
what  do  you  come  whining  here  for  ?  Go 
home,  and  marry  the  woman  who  loves 

him." 

Even  as  I  spoke,  however,  I  moved 
towards  the  bell.  There  was  only  one  in 
the  room.  Austin  saw  the  movement,  and 
placed  himself  ia  front  of  the  corner  I  had 

in  view. 

"You  are  going  to  try  and  get  me 
arrested  ?  "  he  said  contemptuously.  "  No, 
no,  my  friend,  you  will  bide  my  own  time 

for  that." 

There  v(as  a  quiet,  ominous  way  about 
him  which  compelled  me  to  listen.  I  faced 
him,  and  bade  him  say  his  say. 

"  You  honestly  and  truly  believe,"  said 
Austin,  "  that  Philip  will  be  condemned  ? '' 

"  Yes  ;  he  has  confessed." 

"  And  his  guilt  is  clear  to  the  authori- 
ties?" 


r~ 


^  THE  Bl.)iCKhOX  MURDER. 

"They   think    so;    but    I   know,  you 
coward,  that  you  are  the  man." 

"  And  why  do  you  want  to  have  me 
arrested,  if  you  cannot  prove  your  charge  ?  " 

"  We  shall  see,"  I  said  fiercely.    "  Truth 
may  triumph  yet." 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  my  throat, 
Austin  had   flung  himself  upon  me,  his 
heavy  hand  pressed  tight  across  my  mouth. 
He  bore  me  down  with  him,  and  in  another 
moment,  before  I  could  utter  a  sound,  he 
was  busy  tying  my  hands  with  a  silk  hand- 
kerchief. He  finished  the  work  deliberately, 
and  then  he  secured  my  feet  with  the  table- 
cloth.    I  lay  helpless  in  the  great  physical 
strength  of  the  man.     I  recalled,  even  at 
that  moment,  how  accurate  had  been  my 
supposition  with  regard  to  the  struggle  in 
Paris.     He  could  have  crushed  me  at  any 

time. 

'^^hen  he  had  completed  his  work,  he 
came  and  stood  over  me,  and  slowly,  from 
his  left  hand  trousers  pocket,  he  drew  a 
bright  little  revolver.     I  could  not  com- 


tnow,  you 

I  have  me 
r  charge  ?  " 
r.    <•  Truth 

my  throat, 
)n  me,  his 
my  mouth. 
I  in  another 
1  sound,  he 
a  silk  hand- 
leh'berately, 
th  the  table- 
eat  physical 
lied,  even  at 
id  been  my 
:  struggle  in 
1  me  at  any 

lis  work,  he 
slowly,  from 
;,  he  drew  a 
Id  not  com- 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  a»7 

mand  the  working  of  my  features  at  the 
sight  of  such  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  such 

a  man. 

«  Never  fear,"  said  Austin  sadly,  "  I  am 
not  going  to  kill  you  uuless  you  oblige  me 

to." 

I  could  not  answer  him ;  but  in  my  heart 
I  said  to  myself,  "  You  will  have  to  kill  me 
before  you  force  me  to  do  a  wrong  to  «  our 
wretched  brother."  And  yet,  I  could  not 
help  pitying  the  ma^,  as  1  looked  .»p  at  his 
miserable,  handsome  face. 

"And  now,  listen  to  me,"  continued 
Austin,  "  and  remember  every  ^vord  1  say. 
There's  nothing  lo  keep  me  from  leaving 
this  country  for  ever.  I've  got  my  aunt's 
money  in  my  pocket.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"There's  still  less  to  keep  me  from 
pinching  that  throat  of  yours  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  so  stopping  for  ever  all 
chatter  about  my  share  in  the  Black-Box 
Murder." 


i: 


I 

^ 


,88  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

I  nodded  assent  again. 

•'There's  still  less  to  keep  me  from 
quietly  unfastening  those  bandages  and 
going  down  into  the  street,  leaving  you  to 
tell  your  version  of  the  murder  if  you 
choose.     Do  you  think  any  one  will  believe 

you  i 

I  made  no  sign. 

"Do  you  think  any  one  will  believe 
you  ? "  he  repeated  angrily,  touching  my 
prostrate  body  with  his  foot. 

I  was  obliged  reluctantly  to  shake  my 
head.  No ;  in  fact  I  did  not  think  any  one 
would  believe  me. 

«  Nobody  would,"  said  Austin.     "  Very 
well     And  yet  you  are  right,  and  all  the 
world  is  wrong.  Do  you  hear  that  ?  Philip 
is  innocent,  and  1  am  the  murderer.     And 
now,  if  I  release  you,  what  will  you  make 
of  my  confession  ?     Take  it  to  Scotland 
Yard?     They  will  laugh  at  you  and  your 
bicycle,  and  when  I  tell  them  you  are  crazy, 
they  will  answer  that  they  know  that  al- 
ready." 


.gmiul.AJJ.jml  I    > 


DER. 

ep  me  from 
)andages  and 
eaving  you  to 
lurder  if  you 
me  will  believe 


e  will  believe 
,  touching  my 

'  to  shake  my 
t  think  any  one 

Lustin.     "  Very 
rht,  and  all  the 
larthat?  Philip 
nurderer.     And 
will  you  make 
;  it  to  Scotb.nd 
at  you  and  your 
m  you  are  crazy, 
;y  know  that  al- 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  lX^ 

There  was  something  maddening  about 
the  man's  cool  strength.  I  struggled  vainly 
with  my  bonds.  He  smiled  a  bitter,  scorn- 
ful smile. 

"Lie  still  for  a  little,"    he  said,    "and 
hear  the  rest.     As  I  was  saying,  you  are 
right,  and  the  Scotland  Yard  people  are 
wrong.    I  murdered  my  aunt.     I  murdered 
her    for  love— not    for    the    money,    as 
you    may    think— but    for    love.      The 
quarrel  about  Miss  Simpkinson  had  been 
going  on  for  weeks.     I  loved  Miss  Simp- 
kinson.    I  worshipped   the  very  ground 
she  trod  on.     I  did  not  think  Philip  worthy 
of  her.     I  was  sure  that  I  should  make  her 
a  better  husband.      I  still  believe  I  should 
have  done  so.      My  aunt  maddened  me 
with  the  constant  ups  and  downs  of  her 
caprices.  I  knew  that  her  last  will  appointed 
me  her  heir ;  but  she  was  gradually  chang- 
ing.   She  had  resolved,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  that  Philip  must  marry  Miss  Simp- 
kinson if  he  wanted  to.     On  Sunday  after- 
noon she  told  me  definitely  that  she  was 

19 


i 


f- 


a^o  THE  BLACK  BOX  MURDER. 

going  up  to  London  early  on  the  Monday 
morning  to  alter  her  will,  and  divide  her 
money  equally  between  us.     She  would 
tell  Mrs.  Simpkinson  what  she  was  doing, 
she  said,  before  that  lady  started  for  Paris, 
and  Mrs.  Simpkinson  must  act  accordingly. 
I  saw  this  time  that  she  meant  it.     If  she 
lived  to  go  up  to  her  London  lawyers, 
Edith  Simpkinson  was  lost  to  me  for  ever. 
I  loved  the  girl  madly.     I  could  not  live 
without  her.     I  hated  my  brother  because 
of  his  successful  love  of  her.      I  knew  that 
she  had  accepted  me  partly  to  please  her 
mother,  and  partly  out  of  indignation  at 
some  escapades  of  Philip's,  which  1  had 
been  instrumental  in  bringing  under  her 
notice.     I  do  not  mind  telling  you  now  that 
some  of  the  stories  which  thus  reached  her 
were  exaggerated,  to  say   the  least.     I 
knew  that  she  would  escape  me  if  my  aunt 
had  her  own  way.     I  should  lose  her  for 
ever.     I  could  not  bear  the  thought. 

•'  1  saw  Philip  that  evening  just  before 
the  seven  o'clock  service.     He  came  to  my 


391 


Monday 
ivide  her 
le  would 
as  doing, 
for  Paris, 
:ordingly. 
:.     If  she 

lawyers, 
;  for  ever, 
i  not  live 
;r  because 
knew  that 
please  her 
gnation  at 
lich  I  had 
under  her 
)u  now  that 
eached  her 
i  least.     I 
;  if  my  aunt 
lose  her  for 
)ught. 

just  before 
came  to  my 


r//E  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

rooms  for  money.     He  had   been   taking 
too  much  wine,  and  I  told  him  so.     He 
drew  out  his  handkerchief  while  he  was  with 
me,  and  he  drew  out  his  door-key  with  it. 
The  door-key  fell  on  the  hearth-rug.      I 
picked  it  up  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  That 
key  was  the  origin  of  all  the  mischief.  Had 
I  not  had  it,  I  should  never  have  thought 
of  returning  to  my  aunt's.      I   had   seen 
her   twice   already,  in  the  afternoon,   and 
immediately   after    dinner.     I  had   found 
her  inflexible,  and  at  the  second  interview 
we  had  quarreled.     I  picked  up  the  key 
because  I  feared  Philip  would  lose  it— for 
no  other  reason.      I   repeat :  had  he  not 
dropped  it,  the  rest  would  not  have  hap- 
pened. 

"  When  I  came  out  of  church  at  9.30,  I 
rushed  home.  All  through  the  services  the 
key  had  been  burning  a  hole  in  my  pocket. 
I  could  not  rest  without  seeing  my  aunt 
once  more  that  night.  To-morrow  it  would 
be  too  late.  I  must  reason  with  her.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  she  would  listen  to  me  still. 


J 


892  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

I  went  round  by  the  back  way  and  took  out 
the  bicycle.  I  had  used  it  once  or  twice 
before  by  night ;  never  mind  for  what.  I 
had  been  a  great  cyclist  at  the  university, 
but  had  given  it  up  entirely  since  my  ordi- 
nation. I  felt  now,  however,  that  I  should 
be  too  late  if  I  walked  over.  My  aunt 
always  went  to  bed  between  ten  and  a 
quarter  past.  I  made  a  rush  for  it.  I 
swear  to  you —    Do  you  follow  me  ?  " 

Again  he  touched  me  slightly  with  his 
foot.     Again  I  nodded — defiantly. 

"  I   swear  to  you   that  I   had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  injuring  her  in  any 
way.     I  was  desperate— mad  with  love.    I 
had  an  idea  that  one  last  attempt  might 
move   her.     I  never  dreamed  of  hurting 
her.    I  reached  the  house.    All  was  already 
dark.     I  let  myself  in  with  Philip's  key.     I 
knew  there  was  nobody  in  the  house  but 
the  deaf  old  landlady,  dozing  or    asleep 
downstairs.     My  aunt's  rooms  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  close  by  the  door.     The  lights 
were  out  in  the  sitting-room.     My  brother's 


1  took  out 
or  twice 
what.     I 
iniversity, 
;  my  ordi- 
t  I  should 
My  aunt 
:en  and  a 
for  it.     I 
me?" 
f  with  his 

y- 

d  not  the 
ber  in  any 
ith  love.    I 
mpt  might 
of  hurting 
vas  already 
p's  key.     I 
house  but 
or    asleep 
vere  on  the 
The  lights 
ly  brother's 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  m 

door  was  shut,  my  aunts  ajar.      I  pushed 
my  aunt's  door  open.     A  candle  was  burn- 
incr  on  the  dressing  table.      My  aunt  was 
Ivtng,  completely  dressed,  close  to  the  door 
which  communicated  with    Philip's   room. 
She  had  fallen  forward ;  her  head   had 
struck  against  a  sofa  arm.     I  have  since 
conjectured  that  Philip  roughly  pushed  her 
out  of  his  room,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
violently  banged  to  the  door,  thereby  cover- 
ing the  sound  of  her  fall.     Probably  her 
foot  had  caught  in  her  dress  or  the  carpet. 
"  I  went  up  to  her.     She  was  breathmg : 
moving  restlessly.     Sh^  had  only    been 
stunned.     I  saw  that  she  was  rapidly  com- 
ing  to.      I   stood  looking  at  her  for   a 
moment.      In  that  moment  the  whole  pos- 
sibility  flashed  across  my  brain.     I  bent 
down  by  the  door.     1  could  hear  Ph.hp  s 
heavy  breathing,     there  was  chloroform 
I  knew,  on  his  table.     I  crept  in.     I  could 
see,  by  the  faint  light,  that  he  was  lymg 
across  his  bed,  dressed,  and  asleep.      ( He 
must  remember,  you  see,  having    woke 


1 


k 


I 


flgf  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

next  morning  in  his  clothes  ;  and  that, 
though  I  could  not  speak  of  it  to  him, 
increased  his  uncertainty.)  I  crept  back 
with  the  bottle,  and  killed  my  aunt  with 
her  own  handkerchief  across  her  face.  It 
was  all  done  in  a  few  minutes.  Edith  was 
mine ;  but  now  I  must  save  myself,  and 
Philip  must  bear  the  blame.  It  was  the 
only  way  to  secure  Edith  for  ever.  And 
he  deserved  it.     Why  had  he  tried  to  take 

her  from  me  ? 

"  Circumstances  favored  me.    I  dragged 

Philip's  box  out  of  the  room.     I  unpacked 

it  hurriedly,  piling  up  its  contents  in  the 

first  cupboard  I  saw.     Then  I  placed  the 

dead  body  in  it.     I  believe— I  truthfully 

believe  —it  was  dead  by  that  time."    Even 

Austin  shuddered  here.      "  I   closed  and 

corded  the  box  as  Philip  had  done.      I 

took  the  key  away  with  me,  and  next  day 

I  pretended  to  find  it  in  my  aunt's  room. 

The    latch-key    I    replaced    in    Philip's 

pocket. 


i  that, 
to  him, 
5t  back 
nt  with 
ce.  It 
ith  was 
lelf,  and 
was  the 
■.  And 
to  take 

dragged 
npacked 
ts  in  the 
iced  the 
ruthfuUy 
"  Even 
sed  and 
one.  I 
lext  day 
t's  room. 
Philip's 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  ^95 

«  I  tumbled  the  bed,  and  went  into  the 
sitting-room  and  drank  out  the  glass  of 
milk  standing  ready  on  the  table.     In  any 
case,  it  would  be  safer  to  render  it  likely 
that  the  murder  had  been  committed  in  the 
morning.     That  would  perfect  my   (dibi. 
I  slipped  out  of  t'.ie  house,  and  rushed  home 
on  my  bicycle.    Then  I  went  round  to  the 
front  door.     As  I  passed  upstairs,  I  drew 
my  landlady's  attention  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  not  yet  half-past  ten.     I  could  have 
produced  evidence,  had  such  been  required, 
that  I  did  not  leave  the  house  again  all 

night." 

The  blackguard  !     1  knew  he  could. 

<'  Next  morning  I  accompanied  Philip  to 
London.  It  was  believed  that  Miss  Ray- 
nell  had  preceded  us.  As  soon  as  I  had 
committed  the  murder,  I  had  grown  won- 
derfully calm  and  collected.  My  one  idea 
now  was,  I  must  admit,  how  best  to  impli- 
cate Philip.  I  saw  to  the  luggage  on  our 
arrival,  and  it  was  at  the  London  station 
that,  happening  to  stand  waiting  next  to 


;:!■ 


•!«  THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

the  box,  I  marked  it  with  the  letters  *  P.  K./ 
in  imitation  of  Philip's  handwriting.  I 
imitated  them  from  memory,  but  I  knew 
them  well  enough." 

I,  garrotted,  bound  down,  listening  help- 
lessly to  this  story  of  the  murder — I  wisely 
kept  my  counsel  here. 

"  At  the  same  time,"  Austin  went  on, "  I 
tore  off  the  label  which  had  been  just  stuck 
on  at  Southend.  It  was  more  than  half 
detached  already.  I  did  it  from  the  fancy 
that  the  letters  would  be  the  more  easily 
seen  the  less  labels  were  on  the  box.  I 
wished  them  to  be  seen.  I  could  not 
imagine  that  the  box  would  get  mixed  up 
with  others,  and  the  letters  effaced.  Had 
I  had  the  opportunity,  I  would  have  painted 
Philip's  name  on  it  in  great  white  letters. 
I  could  not  do  that,  so  I  marked  it  as  best 
I  was  able.      I  threw  the  old  label  away." 

Again  the  man  he  held  at  his  mercy  could 
have  told  him  better. 

"  And  now  I  come  to  the  one  great  mis- 
hap in  the  whole  story.     My  brother's  box 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  997 

and  Miss  Simpkinson's  were  exchanged  at 
Charing  Cross,  and  Miss  Simpkinson  got 
mixed  up  in  the  matter.     I  would  have 
given  anything  to  save  her.     It  is  impos- 
sible to  say  how  it  happened      My  brother 
had  insisted  on  looking  after  the  luggage, 
and  I  had  been  obliged,  much  against  my 
will,  to  stay  with  the  ladies.     The  boxes 
were  almost    exactly   similar.      We  had 
fetched  the  ladies  at  their  hotel,  where  they 
had  spent  the  night,  and  all  the  boxes  had 
gone  on  one  omnibus.     Probably  the  maid 
pointed  out  the  wrong  box  as  her  mistress'. 
"My   brother  was   to  accompany  the 
ladies  as  far  as  Dover,  and  to  remain  there. 
By  that  strange  fatality  which  is  the  greatest 
auxiliary  of  the  police,  the  box  which  con- 
tained my  aunt's  dead  body  traveled  over 
to  France  in  Mrs.  Simpkinson's  keeping, 
and  was  opened  at  the  Paris  station. 

'« I  had  intended  my  brother  to  take  it 
with  him  to  Dover.  The  body  would  be 
found  in  his  possession.    Probably  he  him- 


iii.:rfi^:^'A^^J5H 


398 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


self  would  find  it.     In  any  case,  the  full 
weight  of  suspicion  would  fall  upon  him. 

"  In  this  one  point  I  failed  utterly.  With 
regard  to  other  matters,  I  was  fairly  success- 
ful. You  will  probably  have  sense  enough 
to  understand  by  this  time  what  use  I  ..lade 
of  you.  You  came  in  very  conveniently. 
But  you  went  further  than  I  had  intended, 
and  found  out  more— damn  you — than  I 
had  expected .  However,  all  that  is  useless 
now.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  had  hoped 
from  the  very  first  to  get  Philip  away  in 
time.  That  was  all  I  was  striving  for. 
And  I  took  trouble  enough  about  it,  heaven 
knows.  I  wanted  to  frighten  him  into  flight, 
through  you.  And  he  could  have  escaped, 
and  there  would  have  been  an  end  of  it. 
He  would  have  left  the  field  clear  for  me, 
and  I.  should  have  provided  for  him  out 
yonder.  But  there,  his  capture  changes 
the  whole  thing.  I  can't  have  him  hung. 
And,  whatever  happens,  I've  lost  Edith.  I 
had  a  letter  from  her  yesterday  to  say  that 
she   had  never  loved  me,  that  she   had 


I 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER.  »99 

always  loved  PhiHp-that  she  loved  him 
all  the  more  now  he  was  in  trouble,  and 
that-murder  or  no  murder— she  would 
remain  true  to  him  for  ever.  That's  my 
confession.  Make  of  it  what  you  can.  If 
it's  any  use  to  Philip,  I  don't  care.  Tell 
Edith  I   always  loved  her;    1  love  her 

still."  ^  .  , 

His  words  had  been  rismg  to  a  shnek. 
As  he  finished,  he  deliberately  pointed  the 
revolver  to  his  left  temple,  and  shot  him- 
self dead.  He  had  intended,  in  shooting, 
to  fall  backwards,  but,  from  the  effect  of 
the  shot,  he  oscillated  one  moment  towards 
me,  and  then  fell  right  across  my  prostrate 
body  with  a  heavy  thud. 

I  tried  to  call  out-of  course  I  could  not. 
I  tried  to  struggle  free-it  was  in  vain. 
The  dead  body  lay  there,  crushing  me 
down,  a  warm,  impassive  weight.  It  was 
too  horrible.     I  lost  consciousness. 

Nothing  remains  to  be  told.     The  facts 


JOO 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 


worked  themselves  into  their  places ;  the 
Scotland  Yard  people  unwillingly  saw  what 
they  were  obliged  to  see ;  the  whole  case 
was  hushed  up.  I  believe  Miss  Simpkin- 
son  carried  off  her  poor,  good-for-nothing 
lover  to  New  Zealand  or  Australia,  and 
that  she  ultimately  married  him  there.  I 
hope  they  were  happy,  but  I  cannot  help 
having  my  doubts,  unless  Philip  conquered 
that  fatal  propensity  of  his  for  drink.  I 
have  been  told  that  he  did,  and  that  the 
terrible  shock  made  a  different  man  of  him. 
Of  course  he  came  into  his  aunt's  little  for- 
tune through  Austin's  death. 

I  left  the  service  of  the  detective  office 
not  many  months  after  the  events  narrated 
in  this  book,  and,  during  the  rest  of  my 
time  there,  I  came  across  nothing  in  any 
way  approaching  in  interest  to  the  tragedy 
which  remains  known  among  a  small  set 
of  individuals  as  the  Black- Box  Murder. 

I  have  told  my  story  as  best  as  I  could. 
1  am  not,  as  I  said  at  the  outset,  a  literary 


r 


^■i 


1 


,JI 


THE  BLACK-BOX  MURDER. 

man,  and  1  hope  the  reader  will  accordingly 
pardon  me  all  literary  shortcomings,  for 
the  sake  of  the  interest  of  my  tale. 


THE  END. 


if 


•p 

r 


jT 


its. 

S4. 

«B. 
SO. 
B7. 
68. 
09. 
70. 
71. 

78. 

78. 

74. 

75. 

76. 

77. 

78. 

79. 

80. 

81. 

8!i. 

88. 

84. 

86. 

86. 

87. 

88. 

89. 

SO. 

91. 

92. 

98. 

94. 

96. 

96. 

97. 

S8. 

99. 
100. 
101. 
108. 
104. 
VKk 
106. 
107. 
108. 
109. 
110. 
111. 
112. 
114. 
115 
116. 
117. 
IIH. 
119. 

lao. 

121. 
122. 
123. 
124. 
125. 
126. 
127. 
128. 
129. 
180. 
181. 
182. 


A  Vrrt  fiTRAHOB  Fakilt.   By  T.  W.  Boblii'-on M 

Thb  KiLvuRNs.   By  Annie  TboaiM 80 

Thb  Fiitx  OF  OntDLKBTOMB.    By  A.  Conan  Doylo 60 

In  IIer  EAnLiBST  TouTH.    ByTasma BO 

TuK  Ladt  E<iKRiA.    By  J.  B.  Harwood 50 

A  TituK  Friend.   By  Adeline  Benreant 50 

Thb  Littlb  CiiATBLAiNB.    BsT  Tiie  Earl  of  Detuirt 50 

(  iiiLDiiKN  OF  To-MouRow.    By  William  8liar|) 80 

Tub  Hauntbd  Fountain  and  Hetty's  Hevkniik.    By  KatI  ariuo  8. 

Maoquoid 80 

A  TIauqhtbr'b  8ArRiPicE.    By  F.  C.  Pbllips  and  IV  i  t^y  Fcndall 60 

llAiiNTiNus.    By  Vernun  Lee SO 

A  Smitoulbr's  Secrkt.    By  Frank  Barrett 50 

KK8TEI.L  OF  Urrtstonr.    By  Eiune  Rtuart 50 

Tub  Talkinr  Imaok  of  XfKER.    By  Franz llartniiinn,  ll.li 50 

A  Scarlet  Bin.    By  Flcreuco  Marryatt 50 

Br  Urukr  OF  TUB  Czar.    By  Joseph  Hatton 50 

Tub  Bin  of  .Iooht  AvELrNiiii.    By  Maarton  Maurtons 50 

A  BoiiN  CoqiTETTB.    By  "Tlie  Ducliess" 50 

Tub  Burnt  Million.    By  JuineH  I'ayn 50 

A  W'dmaii'h  Heaut.    By  Mru.  Alexander 50 

B V  iiLiN.    By  f )uida 50 

Thb  KirAL  PiiiNrEgs.    By  •IiiHliti  McC  .irthy  and  Mrs.  C.  rniid 60 

BuNiiFOLD.    By  Florence  Marryatt 50 

The  Pabtibo  OF  tub  Ways.    By  Betham-Edwards 50 

Thb  Failurb  OF  Bi.isabetm.    By  B- Frances  Poynter 50 

Eli's  ('uiu>rbn.    By  Ueorfce  Manville  Fenn 50 

Tub  Bi8Uop'8  Biblb.    By  David  Cliristie  Murray  and  Henry  Ilemiann  50 

April's  Lauy.    By  "  The  Duchess." 50 

Violet  Vyvian,  M.  F.  H.    By  May  Crommelln 50 

A  WcMAN  OF  THE.  WoKi.D.    By  F.  Mabel  Kobinson 1 0 

The  Baffled  CuNsriUATiiRS.    By  W.  E.  Norris 50 

Btranob  Crixbs.    By  Williiim  Westall 50 

Dishonoured.    By  Theo.  Gift 50 

Thb  Mystery  OF  M.  Felix.    By  B.  L.  Farjeon 50 

With  EsHBX  IN  Ireland.    By  Hon.  Emily  Lawless 50 

Soldiers  Threb  and  Other  Btoribs.    By  Rndyard  Kipli 60 

Whose  WAS  thb  Hand  r    Ity  M.  B.  Braddon 60 

Tub  Blind  MusiriAN.    By  Btepniak  and  William  Wcsta. 50 

Tub  HniiHB  ON  tub  Scar.    By  Bertha  Thomas 50 

Thb  Phantom  BicKHiiAW.    By  Rudyard  KipliiiK 60 

Tub  Loy  e  op  a  Lady.    By  Annie  Thomas 50 

How  Came  llB  D^ADf   By  J.  Fitzirerald  Molloy 50 

Tub  Vicomte's  Bridb.    By  Esme  Btuart 50 

A  ItEVEREND  Obntlemam.    By  J.  Maclaren  Cubbau 50 

Notes  from  tub  '  News.'    By  James  Payn 50 

Tub  Keeper  OF  the  Kbts*    BvF   W.  It'ibinson 50 

Tub  Bcuuamorbb.    By  F.  C.  PhiiipB  and  C.  J.  Wills 60 

Tub  Confessions  of  a  Woman.    By  Mabel  Collins 50 

BowiNo  tub  Wind.    By  £.  Lynn  Lintuu 50 

Margaret  Byno.    By  F.  C.  Philips , 50 

For  Onb  and  tub  World.    By  M.  Betham-Edwards 60 

PaiNCBBS  Bunrbinb.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Klddeli 50 

Si.oANB  Bquarb  BcANDAL.    Bt  Annie  Thomas 60 

Tub  NiouT  OF  8rd  ULT.    By  H.  F.  Wood 80 

QiTHE  Another  Story.    By  Jean  Ingelow 60 

UjiART  OF  Gou).    ByL.T.Meado 80 

Tue  Woiiii  and  thb  Will.    By  James  Payn 60 

Dumps.    By  Mrs.  Louisa  Parr 60 

The  Black  Box  Murder 60 

Th.h  Great  Mill  St.  Mystery.    By  Adeline  Bargeant 60 

Kr^wEEN  Life  AND  Death.    By  Frank  Barrett 60 

r,  AM  B  AND  Fame.    By  Adeline  BarKeant  <tnd  Swing  Lcstfr 60 

Dramas  op  Life.    By  Georxe  R.  Sims 60 

LoviR  on  Friend?   By  Rosa  Noncbette  Carey 60 

FvMous  on  Infamous.    By  Bertha  Th'mss 60 

Tub  lIorsK  op  Halliwkll.    By  Mrs.  II.  F.  Wood 60 

Ri'PPiNo.    By  Oulda 60 

Ai,AM.    By  Ithoda  Broughton 50 


Any  of  tiio  above  sent  iMistpald  on  reojipt  of  pi'!ce,  by  the  pubiisben, 

UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMMNV, 
•uecitaBona  to 

JOHN    W.    LOVELL  COMPANY, 

142  TO  180  WORTH  STREET,  NEW  YORK 


MM 


COLGATES  PERFUMES 


THIS  nCTUBE,  reprodneed  from  »  photogmph,  shows  in  the  fora- 
groand  peasant  women  gathering  Jasmine  Flowers,  and  those  in  the 
background,  on  ladders,  picking  Orange  FV>wers.  The  odors  of  these  two 
flowers  ore  exceedingly  rich  and  fragrant.  They  are  used  by  the  skillful 
perfumer  most  successfully  in  combination  with  other  odors,  and  when  so 
used  impart  a  refinement  and  delicacy  to  the  bouquet  which  woi 
impossible  to  attain  without  them. 

lb  is  the  liberal  use  of  these  odors,  and  the  skillful  manner  in  '  hioh 
they  a<-e  combined,  that  has  helped  to  secure  for  Coloatb  &  Co.  thr 
most  place  among  perfumers,  and  has  created  a  demand  from  all  pnv     <'f 
the  world  for  their  soaps  and  perfumes,  the  favorite  of  which  is       v 

CASHMERE  BOUQUE 

a_£_ 
f 


^,^ 


3APS& 
RFUMES 


kph,  shows  in  the  £oi»- 
lowers,  and  those  in  the 
The  odors  of  these  two 
ire  used  by  the  skillfnl 
ther  odors,  and  when  so 
onqnet  which  woi  >    l'« 

ikillfnl  manner  in  «  liu  h 

COLOATB&CO.  thf  in- 

iemand  from  all  pav  .  ot 
ite  of  which  is       \ 


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